


Turn the radio up when your heart breaks down

by PrimalScream



Series: Modern Bathroom Wall AU [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Loss of Limbs, M/M, backgroud character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimalScream/pseuds/PrimalScream
Summary: James is retired Navy and Coast Guard. John is a retired firefighter. They can’t fix each other, they know that. There’s no fixing what they’ve been through. There’s only comfort and understanding and the willingness to be there, the willingness to see a future, and to let yourself feel again. Or better known as my Modern Bathroom Wall AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Required listening [Bathroom Wall by Faster Pussycat](https://open.spotify.com/track/6xwM2lYzPC6pUhjlV1nCWB)
> 
> So the story in the song is actually true, heard it from the horse's mouth myself. Taime actually did get a girlfriend by calling a number on a bathroom wall. The 80s man, they were something else.
> 
> If you’ve read the snippets you’ll see some differences here…artistic liberty, but the premise hasn’t changed, just some of the small details. Hope y’all don’t mind.
> 
> This isn’t a true WIP in the strictest sense. It's finished, last chapter in beta. I'm going to post at will.
> 
> Just a couple thank yous to the people who made this happen.
> 
> Elle...thank you for your constant encouragement, your belief in me, and your unwavering support. I would have never attempted to write this if it weren’t for you and your Billy/Vane prompt and that turning into a verse. I wouldn’t have ever believed I could write something this length if you hadn’t convinced me to try. Also thank you for the absolutely beautiful edit. I'm so amazed by it and in love with it.
> 
> Rachel...this absolutely would not exist in this form without you and your amazing skills. Your ability to push me to give more, to do more, is what got this written. You’re an incredible editor and some of the detail in here would have never happened if you hadn’t of prompted me. Your suggestions were brilliant and exactly what I needed to be able to get this done and not lose my excitement for it.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

At age seven John stands on the sidewalk and watches a fire truck race past with sirens blaring until it stops at a house four doors down from his. He watches, mesmerized, as the men who, in perfect harmony, work together to save a family of six and put out the blaze that was devouring their home. At that moment he couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else.

He makes his mother buy every fire truck in Hamley’s. That year for Halloween he’s a fireman. For Christmas everything he wants is firefighter related, sheets, a rug, wall coverings, and Legos.

Much to his mother’s horror the phase never ends.

When John was seventeen he started training to become part of the UK Fire and Rescue. He was finally appointed a position at nineteen.

At twenty three, in the wake of the biggest attack on the United States since Pearl Harbor John started building a network to try and find work in the states. Something about the absolute horror of the loss prompted him to do something.

It took a year and a half but it eventually paid off. Miami-Dade asked John to come for an interview.

He brought his fitness records, his performance reports, and six letters of recommendation. By the time he’d left the interview he had the phone number of a lawyer to help him complete the necessary forms to become a legal US resident.

Six more months and John was stepping off a plane into the muggy weather at Miami International Airport. He was already sweating. He couldn’t image what it was going to be like to run in this weather while in full turnout gear.

He always did like a challenge.

His new Captain had sent the house’s youngest rookie to get him. He was every bit of six and half feet tall and built like a house. He looked like a solid wall of muscle capped off by short cropped blond hair and crystalline blue eyes. John thought he looked liked a Viking. His name was Billy.

He also happened to be John’s new roommate. John has asked Captain Morgan to post a listing at the firehouse for a roommate and Billy was it.

John had spent his entire life riding in taxis in London, but getting in the car with the American next to him was a study in trying not to shit his pants. Not only did Billy think the speed limit was a mere suggestion, his idea of maintaining a lane included having two tires right on the center-line all while barely watching the road in front of him. He hoped to God not everyone drove this recklessly. When Billy told him he was generally the man to drive on a call John just stared at him blankly.

It only took a few day for them to settle into a routine. They rise early for a run, come back for a round of showers, and then share the duties of making breakfast.

They find out that they’re both fairly decent cooks, each with a dinner specialty that they unveil for the other within their first week. Billy makes a meatloaf that has the most perfect blend of seasoning that John’s ever tasted. John shows off his chicken parm and Billy proposes marriage.

John’s first shift won’t start until Billy’s next shift so they have four days to get to know each other and settle into being roommates. They’ll work four on and six off, living at the station for the duration of their shift.

Billy and John train side by side, work the same shifts during John's first year, and share a common love of craft beer and B rated horror flicks.

During a weekend bender of video games, movies, and cheap whiskey, John nervously tells Billy he’s subsisted on a diet of cock since he was fifteen. Billy grins wolfishly and tells John that he subsists on whatever looks good on the menu at any given time.

They try exactly once to have sex. It ends up with them drying tears of laughter, staring at a broken table and swearing a solemn vow to never mention it to anyone. Ever.

Their love of fire and the ability to tame it helps cement a friendship that will last through relationships—failed and successful, the death of loved ones, injuries, and moving vans.

Billy meets the love of his life during a water rescue refresher course and John can’t begrudge him his happiness when he moves out and their Saturday pizza runs begin to include a third.

John likes Charles, but more than that, he likes the way Charles treats Billy with respect, and the way Charles looks at Billy when Billy isn’t looking, and how for Charles, Billy is more than the face and body on the outside.

John starts dating more once he’s living alone. And he’s using the term dating loosely. John is young, his accent a novelty to most Americans, but more than that, he knows what he looks like. He’s aware that he’s attractive, and that his ass is hard enough to bounce a coin off of. He never has to try very hard. All it takes is a worn t-shirt, snug jeans and few words before he’s got someone on the hook.

John’s not looking for long term yet, most men he’s met can’t handle his job. He’s used to it, but he gets tired of his right hand after a while and he goes looking.

He doesn’t go looking often, once every few months. Miami isn’t small nor is it lacking in people trying to pick John up. There’s a half dozen clubs he rotates through and for John, it’s more than enough. He’s had sex up against the wall more than any one person he knows, but he’s not complaining. He’s okay with bathroom sex, ally sex, and really any sex that stays out of his apartment. It keeps people from getting attached.

When John's not cruising Miami he's running the simulation or he taking one of the hundreds of continuing education classes offered by the department. Because of this John’s been recognized more than a dozen times over his willingness to be a leader, and his never ending patience with new recruits.

When two of his brothers fell, John led the charge to remodel their houses for accessibility, brought their wives dozens of homemade frozen casseroles that only had to be thawed and heated, and took their children to movies for a distraction. John never shies away from lending a hand or even just an ear to someone in need without ever expecting anything in return. Everyone within Miami-Dade knows who John is. And everyone likes him.

He’s the model the academy uses during training. John is now in most of their training videos, showing off skills that others will only ever dream of having.

After seven years and three Heroic Service awards they offer John a Lieutenant position. He’s not ready to drive a desk yet. He’s still in love with the bright orange glow. He’s not ready to leave the field. He he says thanks, but no thanks.

He gets the same offer every year, and every year he turns it down.

John has a relationship with fire that most people can’t and will never understand. When John’s in the thick of it, his focus hones and everything but the violence of the fire he’s battling and the structure around him fall away. People say that he becomes one with the fire and moves with it. Billy tells people that no one understands the flames or predict its movement better than John.

Even Billy, who comes from a long line of firefighters, doesn’t have the knack that John has. There’s a knowledge ingrained in John that can’t be taught. You have it or you don’t, and John has it. Fire is the blood that runs in his veins. It’s John’s life and love, it’s what he lives for.

His life shatters at exactly 4:52am on an average Thursday.

John loses his leg just below the knee and he’s forced to retire from the only job he’s ever wanted, the only thing he’s ever really loved. He knows that at his physical fitness level he’d had a good ten years in the field left before he would have needed to start thinking about taking that Lieutenant position they kept offering him.

 

* * *

 

James’s parents take him to Portsmouth when he’s nine to watch the Royal Navy jets fly maneuvers off the coast. The speed gets him first, but it’s the sound that hooks him. While everyone else is covering their ears James is in love with the loudness and the smell of jet wash. He’s in awe of the aerial acrobatics. The jets are steel and inflexible yet swoop in and out of formation like the most delicate hummingbirds. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

For the next week the only thing James will talk about are the jets. All of James’s friends in primary think he’s lost his mind except for Anne. She seems to share his excitement and continually asks him to re-enact every detail.

Over the next several years James attends every Red Arrow show he can find. His interest never wanes. With each show he attends, his love for the jets themselves and his admiration for the pilots grows deeper. Nothing else holds his interest the way the jets do. He’s certain his parents would appreciate it if he would find something else, something closer to home.

Despite their feelings, James’s parents still take turns carting him back and forth all over the English countryside. The shows fuel his love of the fast flying jets. His eyes never leave the sky as they fly over and around, spinning and turning. His heart in his throat, James imagines the pull of gravity as the jets climb straight up. He thinks about the ball of energy in his stomach as he watches them take off and wonders if that’s what it will feel like when he finally gets his chance to fly. He wonders if his stomach will swoop and drop as drastically as the jets do.

At twelve he begins comparing the merits of becoming an Officer Pilot in the Royal Navy versus joining the Royal Air Force. He decided that learning how to land and take off from an aircraft carrier is much cooler than taking off and landing from a runway.

At fourteen James is determined to visit the Naval recruiters office. He has to take three buses to get there. Anne says she’s going too, says that James can barely find his way out of a wet paper bag, let alone figure out the different routes he needs to take.

James has a sneaking suspicion that she just wants to go along, not yet wanting to tell him why. He doesn’t comment and silently smiles as he and Anne climb on the first bus.

James enters the office with a notebook full of his questions written down in neat block letters. He wants to know exactly what he has to do to be a Fast Jet Pilot with the Royal Navy.

As Doug, his recruiter, speaks, James takes careful notes. Doug lines out which subjects will be most helpful and will give him a leg up in the long run and how to prepare for the recruit tests.

Before they leave James asks Doug if he has any information on the Warfare Officer program. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Anne straighten up. She’s spent the entire time slouching in the chair next to him picking at her nails.

She hadn't thought he’d been paying attention to her research, but he had. Even if she’s not ready to talk to him about it yet, James lets her know that he’ll be there when she is. Later that night, before Anne leaves to go home, he slips all the paperwork Doug gave him on the Warfare Officer program into her backpack.

James leaves the office with a clear plan. His future all but planned out as far as he’s concerned. The only wrench he can foresee are his parents. They may not be so excited.

A week later, with all his information gathered, James presents his argument to his parents. They can hardly find fault with his decision. It’s peace time after all and the program will provide a top notch education and training that the civilian world will hold in high regard. James could see the fear in his mother's eyes but he wouldn’t be swayed.

James spends the next few years gearing his studies toward science, physics, and math, knowing he’s going to need them during navigational training. His studying pays off, and with the results of his A levels, he’s ready to apply to Britannia Royal Naval College.

The day he submits his application, Anne haltingly tells him that she has done the same. James’s hadn’t wanted to push but he had caught her more than once going over the paperwork from the recruiter's office and while he’d hoped she’d tell him beforehand, he’s ecstatic knowing that they’ll begin another journey together. No one pushes him the way she does. No one knows him or understands him the way she does and he knows that the same is true for her.

They’ve been friends since they were three and had relied solely on each other for as long as James could remember. When Anne fell out of the tree her mother expressly forbade her from climbing when they were eight, it was James she sought out first. When Joey Thomas tried to kiss her at a party in year eleven she immediately ran to James. When her parents had divorced and she run away he had been the only one to know where to find her.

Their mothers had been University roommates. It was a forgone conclusion they’d be friends and while their mothers had hoped for more, it wasn’t in the cards. Neither Anne nor James saw one another in that light. They’d shared one kiss and for James it had been like kissing his mother. They’d been relieved to be able to move on from the expectations of their future and remain the best of friends, despite disappointing their mothers.

By the time his admission to BRNC is confirmed, James is already half packed in anticipation. He relies on stories from his friends’ brothers and sisters who’ve already attended BRNC as to what to expect and what he should bring and leave behind. Every single one of them had said he needed to bring an ironing board and iron. They may be cumbersome to take, they’d said, but he’d be thankful when his instructors weren’t singling him out for having a wrinkled uniform.

He and Anne have a joint leaving party; after all, there was no sense in having two when all of the attendees would be the same. Their mothers spend most of it in tears and although he understands, he’s just too excited and ready to go.

They board the bus headed for Portsmouth early on a sunny May morning after kissing their parents goodbye. He'd told his mother to calm down, he wasn't going off to war, just to school. She'd just batted at his head before hugging him again. When he'd looked at Anne over his mother's shoulder he saw she was being given the same treatment, they both just rolled their eyes.

It's not a long trip, but to James it feels like it takes forever. When the buses come around the curve of BRNC he grabs Anne’s hand and they press their faces to the glass to stare out at the campus. His heart starts to pound. He’s never been more excited. It’s not the first time he’s been here, it’s not even the second, but it’s the time that matters the most.

The [parade grounds](http://cdn.c.photoshelter.com/img-get/I0000DfmPynn_Gzo/s/600/480/AG02079.jpg) stretch in front of him surrounded by lush greenery. Set back behind that are the beautifully constructed stone structures where he’ll spend the next thirty weeks of his life. James can feel the smile splitting his face. He’s finally here. Everything he’s worked for has finally paid off. He knows he’s in for thirty weeks of hard academic and physical training.

After three weeks, James worries he’s not cut out for the Royal Navy, afraid he doesn’t have what it takes to succeed. The courses are hard, much harder than he’d anticipated and some of the people he has to work with are difficult, to say the least. But all the difficulties just make James more determined. He doesn’t quit. On the more arduous days, he runs laps around the tennis courts, stress rushing out of him as his feet pound the pavement. It gets easier. By the time his first twenty weeks have gone and his next ten are to be spent at sea, he knows without a doubt he’d made the right choice.

After his passing out parade James knows he’s looking at three and a half years of training before he’ll be assigned a front line squadron. He says goodbye to Anne. Their paths will diverge as Anne will be directly assigned to a ship to begin her training, starting with her Navigational Watch Certificate. James will be heading to the 703 squadron to start his own training and begin learning to fly.

In the beginning, James is more lonely than he’s ever been. Anne has been by his side his entire life. Every first he’s ever had she’s been right there with him--the first time he’d kissed a girl, the day he realized he had a massive crush on the star rugby player in year ten, both of his first sexual experiences, first with Mary Anne Chamberlin and then again with Josh Kingsford--Anne was the person he’d run to. They had embarked on every new adventure together, and without her there, it’s almost like missing a part of himself. To fill the growing void, James throws himself into his training.

After ten months of basic training it’s on to Basic Flying, Fixed Wing Flying, Fast Jet training, and then Air Combat training. Once all of his training is complete he’ll be ready for ground attacks, air reconnaissance, fire power joint support, and operating from an aircraft carrier. James excels at his training, always at the top of the class. He’s well liked and moves through the ranks resulting from merit based promotions.

The first time he watches from the deck of a carrier as a jet takes off, James is overwhelmed with so much joy he can barely contain himself. He looks out over the sea and feels like he’s truly home.

At twenty eight James’s commander approaches him with an opportunity to participate in the British-US Naval Exchange program. _Would he like to fly jets in the US?_ James jumps at the chance. He’ll be stationed in Miami, Florida and he’ll work with not only the Navy, but also the Marines and the Coast Guard.

When he tells Anne she’s excited, but also heavyhearted. She’s currently stationed out in the middle of the ocean and won’t be able to make it home for his send off. He tells her that he’ll send her pictures, and convinces her to visit him in the US when she goes on leave.

James lands in Florida on a Tuesday afternoon in May. It’s warm, slightly humid but and he's been told it will get worse. Thankfully the flight suits are hooked up to cold blowing air while in the cockpit. He’d been lucky enough to pull NAS Pensacola, home of the Blue Angels and the US Navy’s premier flying school. He’ll spend several months here, familiarizing himself with the differences between what he used to fly and what he’s going to fly.

Much to his joy, James soon realizes that the differences are few and far between. The main one of which being the cockiness of the American pilots. They all think they’re hot shit, and while James understands, he’s never been one to boast.

If he’s learned anything in the last ten years it's to keep your mouth shut when confronted with egos. James keeps his head down and his ears open, and because of this, the other pilots take to him easily.

He spends six months in Pensacola then another three in NAS Key West before finally landing at his final installation, NS Mayport just outside of Jacksonville. While in Mayport he spends more time with the Coast Guard, making quite a few friends. When it comes time for him to re-enlist with the BRN or retire, his close friend, Coast Guard Captain Hal Gates, convinces him to retire and join the Coast Guard. He tells James that there can never be enough good pilots working Search and Rescue. James gets an aged based waiver due to his former military experience and the green card issuance is but a formality.

Six months after his thirtieth Birthday James is a full fledged, green card carrying member of the US Coast Guard. Two years later, he’s transferred to the Miami Air Station.

At thirty three, James meets Thomas and Miranda Hamilton. They had been forty miles off the coast when they sounded a mayday call; their boat engine had seized. Miranda had spent the entirety of the tow back to shore asking James one question or another--how long he’d been in the Coast Guard, had he grown up in the US, was there someone waiting at home for him, did he prefer men or women--all while her husband looked on with a smirk.

It was a bit unsettling, the attention Miranda paid him. James knows he’s attractive, he understands the draw of his green eyes and the way his ass looks in a uniform. But her husband is right there, and by the time they return to shore, James is a bit on edge.

As they’re disembarking, Thomas stops and asks James if he has a business card. James is dumbfounded for several seconds before reaching for his wallet. When he hands the card over, Thomas’s thumb strokes over James’s knuckle. The touch was startling, but James could feel warmth start to seep into him from that one contact point.

Thomas winks at him before he and his wife walk off. James has to do a double take. He’s used to being flirted with by both sexes, he enjoys it—since he’s inclined to enjoy both—but having both members of a married couple flirt with him was slightly confusing and arousing at the same time.

Three days later, Miranda calls asking him to dinner. James politely declines until Miranda informs him that her husband will be joining them. She explains that they’d very much like to thank him for the rescue.

For several months the couple take him to lunch, dinner, museums, and the occasional trip out on their boat. In hindsight, James will realize that they were courting him.

James had come to count them among his closest friends. Their dry wit and intelligence was a big draw for him. They could debate politics and religion in the fiercest manner only to end the conversation in near hysterical tears of laughter.

On one evening in particular during a small dinner party in their home, Miranda made a blatant pass right in front of Thomas. She’d sat on the arm of his chair and had run her fingers over his scalp and stroked the back of his neck, and while it had been enjoyable, it had also been completely inappropriate.

James made a move to leave but Thomas caught up to him at the door, Miranda hot on his heels. He explains patiently that they want to take him to bed...together. At first he’s stunned and doesn't know what to say. They bracket him, their hands removing his coat, Miranda’s lips on his and Thomas’s lips on the back of his neck. He doesn’t even think to say no.

That night began the single most important relationship in James’s adult life. He’d never been in love and suddenly he was in love with two people at once. The next five years of his life were the most blissful he’d ever known.

The Hamilton’s were one of the wealthiest families in Miami, owning the marina, which had been in Miranda's family for years, and quite a bit of real estate. Even though James neither needed or wanted their money, they lavished him with gifts and insisted he join them on their various trips and vacations.

After a year together, James moves in with them. His closest friends, including Captain Gates know the nature of his relationship with the Hamiltons. While some don’t quite understand how it works, they understood the care the three of them take with each other.

James loses Thomas and Miranda on a dark night in August to the worst hurricane Miami has seen since 1992.

He’d come home from a forty-eight shift and told them, in no uncertain terms, they were to stay home. He’d told them to stay in, that the storm was moving too fast, and it was too close and they couldn’t outrun it this time. They’d agreed.

When he’d woken, ten hours later, they were gone and so were the marina keys. He’d raced to the dock to find their slip empty, afterward he sped to the base and was gearing up to take a boat out when Captain Gates stopped him. He was forced back, no boats were going out. He sat, helpless, as the ocean raged on.

Miranda and Thomas were somewhat of a thrill seeking couple. They believed that all their experience and knowledge would keep them safe. They believed they knew the ocean better. The believed they could predict its movement. They believed their connection with the sea would prevail.

Three days later pieces of _The Unkept_ were found floating just miles off shore.

Thomas and Miranda’s bodies were never found.

Everything the Hamilton’s had owned had been willed to James. He wanted none of it. He kept the main house and sold the marina, the penthouse, and all of their furnishings, donating the proceeds to the hurricane relief fund.

Unable to focus and barely able to sleep for the nightmares that plague him every night, James could no longer function to the best of his ability. James believes that his best course action is to retire.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, loss and recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the posting schedule. Sorry.
> 
> Also I'll preemptively say I'm sorry for this chapter.

_JOHN_  
At thirty four, John’s still the first to get to the top of the stairs during simulation training while wearing full gear. Last year he’d managed to lap the twenty year old rookie in their station, completing the course twice before the rookie could finish once. This year it had been a lot closer, but John had still cleared the roof ahead of everyone else. 

As a rule the men and women running the simulation don’t have duty twenty four hours before or twenty four hours after because of the toll it takes. But John had gotten a special stipulation from his Captain. Captain Morgan was more than aware of the shape John was in and saw no issues with him competing in the morning and subbing for Billy later that night. Billy had managed to score last minute concerts tickets for Charles’s favorite band and he’d asked John to switch with him. John hadn’t hesitated. 

He spends the hours after the simulation and before his shift hanging out at the station. His brothers in arms congratulate him on his luck at his _advanced age_. His brothers are assholes and John doesn’t hesitate to tell them so. He tells them all to go to hell; it's not luck, it's skill. He says maybe they’d be as good as he was if they didn’t down a six pack every night along with their bucket of KFC.

John will admit he’s a little neurotic about the gym and his workout schedule. He lifts four times a week, cardio every day, three of those days he runs the stairs on the simulation course in full gear. 

At 5’9” and one hundred eighty five pounds of solidly packed muscle, John wouldn’t be considered a big guy. His size doesn’t diminish his ability to do his job. He’s much stronger than he looks. He can bench twice his weight and can deadlift four-forty. He’s also faster than most of the men on his crew, his smaller stature letting him turn tight corners and crawl through small spaces quicker than his brothers. John truly believes that he’s in better shape now than he was in his twenties. If his fitness scores each year are anything to go on, he’s in better shape than over half the population. 

Billy and Charles show up an hour before John’s shift starts because Charles had wanted to thank John in person. Charles has been a fan of Blue Oyster Cult for as long as he can remember and this reunion tour was sure to be their last and his last opportunity to see them live. John spends ten minutes giving Charles shit over his taste in music until Billy reminds him that he once caught John acting out Flashdance in their living room.

At six thirty that evening, John settles in with the men at the station for beef stroganoff and a scrabble marathon, which he loses spectacularly. He turns in early and hopes for a quiet night. 

Settling into bed, John calls his boyfriend, Kevin, to tell him goodnight and refuses to give in to phone sex.

“I’ll be home tomorrow.” John says.

Kevin huffs at him, but relents.

John falls asleep that night with a smile on his face at Kevin’s promise of a thorough cock sucking when he gets home. He’s been with Kevin for two years. They’d met at the Miami-Dade county fair. John had been on duty in the first aid tent and hadn’t bothered to change out of his uniform before wandering around the fair to find dinner after his shift.

He knew that the main reason Kevin had approached him was because of the uniform. Usually John didn’t do groupies. But Kevin had worn him down.  
Kevin was six foot four of dark hair, fathomless dark eyes, and built like a brick shit house. His arms were solid enough for John to do chin ups on. He had a wicked smile and a sarcastic sense of humor that caught John off guard more than once. 

They’d walked around the fair, conversation flowing free and easy. Between playing skee ball and shooting hoops, John had found out that Kevin was an adjunct professor at University of Miami’s Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science. He taught applied marine physics. John couldn’t help but be impressed. Not only was Kevin physically appealing, he was smart as well.

By the end of the night John had told him that he’d think about going to dinner with him, but that he didn’t really do relationships. John always tried to be upfront with anyone he hooked up with. He wasn’t cut out for long term despite sometimes longing for what many of his friends had. 

There were nights he wanted someone beside him in bed. Someone he could come home to after working multiple days straight. Someone he could bitch to and lean on during the days the job overwhelmed him with death and destruction he could do nothing to stop.

A week later Kevin had shown up at the station with homemade meatball subs. John hadn’t been the only one who’d been appreciative. The week after that it was carrot cake. The next week, shrimp etouffee, at which point John handed over his phone number. 

They’d slept together after three dates. Once John let his defenses down he’d realized they had a lot in common and the relationship had started to blossom.  
Six months ago, Kevin moved in. It wasn’t always everything it was cracked up to be, but John knew relationships weren’t perfect.

At two forty four AM John is jerked out of sleep by dispatch. Building explosion. Fifteen men are up and ready to go in less than three minutes. As Billy’s sub it’s his job to drive, John’s least favorite activity. Ten years in the US and he still hates driving on the wrong side of the road. 

It’s a massive three alarm apartment fire. The building sits smack dab in the middle of an eight building complex in a cul de sac on Grove Road. There’s a meth dealer that lives on the third floor of building 306. At two thirty AM he blew himself up.

John’s unit is the first to reach the scene. Half his engine company begins wetting down the buildings on both sides of 306 while the other half charge into the building itself, hose snaking behind them.

Flames are pouring out the windows on the third floor reaching toward the roof and trying to lick across to adjacent buildings. Half an hour later there are two more units fighting side by side with John’s. They’ve called off the search and rescue and have pulled all personnel out to manage hoses from the outside.

A woman, who is seventy if she’s a day, approaches John about her late husband’s dog. Simon had rushed back toward the building in the chaos and now she couldn’t find him. That dog was all she had left her dead husband and she was frantically begging for someone to go look for him. Ever the softie, John ran back into the building against Captain Morgan’s orders. Later he won’t remember the woman, the conversation, or the dog. 

The two floors above John come crashing down trapping his leg under a thousand pounds of steel support beams. 

It takes six of his crew to drag him out. His gear had protected him from the fire and his oxygen had kept him from suffering from smoke inhalation, but they couldn’t save the bottom third of his left leg. It had been crushed and ninety percent severed in the collapse.

Billy will tell him later that John had keyed his mic, shouting out his position in the structure just as the building started to come down. If he hadn’t, they might not have found him in time. 

***

The first thing John becomes aware of two days later is a dull searing pain in his left leg. It takes him three tries to get his eyes to stay open, the feeling of being pulled under a thick, hazy cloud fighting against his desire to awaken. The beeping of the machines above him tell him he’s in the hospital. His brain tells him that there’s something absolutely wrong about the way the blankets are lying but he can’t clear the fog enough to follow the train of thought. 

Looking to the left he sees Billy sitting by his side, head bowed, shoulders shaking. John reaches for him and Billy’s head shoots up. His eyes are red and wet and John immediately wants to comfort him.

He tries to speak but his throat is bone dry. Billy lets him have a few sips of water. Before he can try again, Billy says he’s going to get Jax. 

Jackson Spruce is the only attending that John trusts if he’s being completely honest. Jackson Memorial is the busiest hospital in the county. It’s also the only Level One trauma center in Miami-Dade. Every aspiring doctor within a hundred miles wants a residency at Jackson and most of them can’t find their asses with both hands a flashlight. Except Jax. 

John had met Jax three days after his residency started four years ago. He’d been frazzled and elbows deep in a multiple incoming trauma from a freeway pile up when John had hit on him. That’s John’s test. If he hits on the new resident and they respond in the middle of a trauma, John’s got no use for them. Jax had shot him an exasperated look, hands still cradling a teenager’s head, and barked, “What the fuck’s was wrong with you? Do you not see the skull split open right in front of us?”

They’ve been friends ever since. 

By the time Billy’s back with Jax, John can feel sleep trying to pull him back under. He struggles to remain lucid as Jax checks his pupils and pulse. Jax sits on the side of the bed, hand on John’s thigh.

“What do you remember?”

John racks his brain but the last thing he can vividly remember is the call waking him up. Jax pulls the blankets back slowly and John stares down at the bulky white bandage where his calf is supposed to be.

John reaches for the pan next to his bed and promptly throws up. Wiping his mouth, his hand shakes as he frantically searches through the blanket for the morphine drip. He knows it’s there. He’s familiar enough with trauma care to know that the kind of surgery that he’s been through would come with a morphine drip. And right now he desperately needs to find it, and go back to sleep, this is just a nightmare. When he wakes up, things will be back to normal. Jax finds it before he does. John stares at him mulishly as Jax continues to talk.

“We couldn’t save it, I’m sorry. But you’re alive, and that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.”

Right now John’s not so sure about that. Losing his leg means losing his career. John tips his head back as he feels his eyes start to sting. Chest burning with anxiety, John swallows twice, trying to hold the emotions at bay a little while longer.

After a moment of silence, John exhales slowly and looks back to Jax, “Tell me the plan.”

“Up to six months on crutches—depends on how it heals, what kind of care you take with it. Physical therapy, and a lot of it. We’ll start fitting for a prosthetic in a few weeks, you can start trying it on at two or three months, as long as all the swelling is gone and you’re healing well. You’ll rehab with crutches and braces for the next few weeks until you’re stable and can get yourself around. If you want a wheel chair, we’ll give you one of those too.” 

John shoots a death glare at Jax. Jax holds his hands up defensively. John isn’t going to use a wheelchair when he still has one working leg and a set of crutches at his disposal. He’ll make do and if he can’t, he just won’t get up.

“Once the prosthetic is here and fitted, you’ll be back in rehab learning to walk again on the best titanium the city’s money can buy. There’s a lot of technology going into prosthetics now, you can get almost anything you want. You’re here for another ten days minimum. We have to watch the drainage. As long as there are no complications we should be able to seal the wound and send you home in a week and a half or so.” 

John just nods his head. He knows the general particulars, he’s not the first amputee at his station.

“For what it’s worth Simmons did the cleanest work I’ve ever seen. It should heal pretty smoothly.” For John, it’s not worth much. 

Silently, he holds his hand out for the morphine button. Jax sighs but hands it over. Just before John’s eyes slip shut he sess Billy take up the chair next to his bed again. He feels Billy’s fingers lace with his as he drops off in a drug induced oblivion.

***

The next time he wakes, it’s Kevin in the chair, phone pressed to his ear. When he sees John is awake he puts the phone on speaker. It’s John’s mother. She wants to come. John groggily convinces her not to. Tells her that for the most part he’s fine and he’s got Kevin and Billy and the boys at the station to help him. 

She relents, much to John’s relief. He loves his mother desperately, but he doesn’t want her here right now. Maybe once he’s been on the prosthetic for a few months he’ll have his parents out. For now it would be too much.

Jax takes the morphine away from him that day. He tells John he doesn’t need it, that there are other ways to manage pain. Jax says they’re going to get him up and they need him to be as steady on his feet as he can be.

Despite the tumble of emotions that John is feeling, John appreciates Jax’s refusal to treat him like a patient. He treats John like a colleague knowing that John’s own training and experience will kick in when it comes right down to it. John doesn’t know how he’d react if Jax came at him like any of the other amputees he’s treated. John doesn’t think he could survive the sympathy.

Later that afternoon two of the nurses on the floor get him out of bed for the first time. He nearly face plants when his blood pressure drops because he’s been laying on his back for two days. Once he’s steady they fit him with crutches and tell him to get as far as he can down the corridor.

John’s stubborn and a complete hard ass. By the time he goes all the way down the hall and back he’s nauseous, lightheaded, and covered in sweat. He passes out before he’s even fully back in bed.

***

He spends fourteen more days in the hospital, getting up to walk every three hours. He starts physical therapy before he’s even discharged. 

Every one of the guys comes through at least once. Billy’s there every day he’s not on shift. Two days before John’s to be discharged, Billy is sitting with him, trying to distract him from the pain of his most recent round of therapy with Wheel of Fortune. John is barely conscious when out of the blue, Billy apologizes. 

“For what?” John feels his eyebrow furrow, at a loss as to why Billy is apologizing.

“It should be me in that bed. That was my shift.”

John actually laughs. It’s the first time he’s laughed since he woke up, the sound almost startles him. 

“That’s bullshit. You heard what Cap said, I went back inside against his direct order. You wouldn’t be in this bed because you wouldn’t have gone back in, the way I shouldn’t have gone back in.”

“If we hadn’t of switched--”

John cut in quickly, before Billy could continue. “I’d have done something just as stupid eventually. We’re not going to play this game, Billy. I don’t blame you anymore than I blame that old woman. So stop blaming yourself.”

Billy just looks at him, their eyes lock. John knows that Billy sees the truth of it when he finally nods his head. He doesn't blame Billy, not even for a second. John is a law unto himself, everyone knows that. He knew the risks he took, this was on his shoulders and his alone. 

Two hours later Captain Morgan comes by and tells him that they’re going to leave his stuff in his locker, exactly as it is until John wants to come get it. He tells John that once he’s up on the prosthetic he could apply for dispatch. John just shakes his head. 

He knows the offer is sincere but everyone knows why he can’t take it. You don’t do this job and then suddenly let it go. Especially not John. He’d never be able to hear the calls for help and not respond. He’d never be happy sitting on the sidelines like a third string player. It’s not in him to drive a desk. 

“We’re all here for you, John,” his captain says as he turns to leave, “all you have to do is call on us.”

John nods but his soul fights against the thought of needing anyone to take care of him. He looks down at the bandage on his left leg and all he wants to do is punch something. 

***

Two days before he’s discharged the state’s advocate, Martin Thompson, brings pension and injury trust fund paperwork by his room. All John has to do is sign and his benefits will start without any interruption to his regular pay schedule. After Martin leaves, John breaks down for the first time; giant racking sobs bursting from his body and shaking his bed. His signature on that paperwork makes it’s official, he’s retired, his career is finished. He’s just another member of the civilian world.

He won’t need to worry about how to support himself or how to pay for all his ongoing medical care. His pension and the catastrophic injury trust fund will take care of all that. John is thankful, but he wishes like hell he didn’t have to utilize it.

On the day he’s discharged from the hospital, John leaves with a binder full of daily care instructions for dressing changes, massaging, and ways to lessen sensitivity. The physical therapist tells him that tapping will help with the phantom pain. They hand him half a dozen photos and pamphlets for prosthetic manufacturer’s. He can design it himself or with the help of a designer. It’s all in John’s hands. 

A nurse wheels him out to Kevin’s car. Kevin hovers close by as they help him from the wheelchair to the car. He knows that Kevin is trying to be helpful but every touch is grating on John’s last nerve. Every time he reaches out to steady John or put his hand on John’s elbow John wants to explode. He grits his teeth and stays silent. 

When they get home John heads straight for the bedroom to lie down. Kevin asks if he wants company. John just shrugs and says sure, not knowing how to say no without being a dick. John tosses his shirt into the corner and lies down on his back. Kevin lies down next to him on his side facing John. He can feel Kevin’s eyes boring holes in the side of his face. Not wanting to talk, John closes his own eyes to feign sleep.

Kevin scoots close and just watches him for several minutes before he settles his hand low on John’s stomach. He traces random designs into John’s skin for long minutes before John flinches away, unable to endure the contact that Kevin seemed to so desperately need. 

“Don’t.” John says through gritted teeth.

Kevin pulls his hand back. “I’m sorry, I just...Do you know what it was like to get that phone call? To listen to them tell me that a building, and entire fucking building John, had fallen on you and you were headed for surgery? I just need to know that you’re still here, that you’re okay.”

The thing is, John doesn’t know. He’s never gotten that phone call. He knows it must have been terrifying, but right now he can’t really wrap his mind around someone else’s feelings. Not when he’s only two weeks removed from the event that completely changed his life. He’s so far from okay that John isn’t sure he could even begin to articulate it. Let alone make Kevin understand.

He just keeps silently staring up at the ceiling, feeling the pain in his stump throb to the rhythm of his heart. Kevin sighs and then gets up shutting the door softly on his way out.

***

The first time a rig goes down their street later that week, sirens wailing loudly, John locks himself in the bathroom for an hour. Kevin begs and pleads to be let in. John ignores him. He sits on the closed toilet lid, robe wrapped tightly around himself as tears silently stream down his face.

John doesn’t know how to explain that the sound that had once brought meaning to his life was now the same sound that opened not only a gaping wound in his body, but in his soul. It hadn’t just been a job for John, it had been everything for him. He’d spent his entire life working for it and in the blink of an eye it was just gone. Kevin wouldn’t understand. John doesn’t have the strength to even try to explain it.

Things don’t get better. Kevin keeps trying to help and John keeps thwarting it at every turn. Yesterday, John had tried to navigate the stairs by himself only to almost take a header. By the time Kevin had found him, John was hanging onto the railing with one hand; his crutches in a heap at the bottom of the stairs as John tried in vain to regain his balance. He knows that Kevin is annoyed that they’re never alone. One of the guys from the station is constantly around, more often than not Billy and it’s no secret that Billy and Kevin have never really been the best of friends. Billy thinks Kevin isn’t good enough and Kevin thinks Billy is secretly in love with John. It had never been that much of an issue before, but now when Kevin comes home from work and Billy is there, hands all over John in a way that John won’t allow Kevin there are pointed looks and doors slamming.

When they are alone, John is sleeping or faking sleep so that he doesn’t have to see the way Kevin looks at him; half pity, half frustration. 

Kevin can’t take time off of work to care for him as they’re not married, so it’s the guys from the station who stop by almost every day. They take John to his PT, to his doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, clothes shopping, you name it someone else is doing it and John knows that it’s making Kevin feel useless. 

John knows Kevin is frustrated with him and his unwillingness to include Kevin in day to day decisions and care.

The nursing staff had taught Kevin how to wrap John’s leg before they’d left the hospital but John flat out refused to let Kevin near it. He’d lock himself in the bathroom despite Kevin’s plea’s to let him help. John is more than relieved when he finally transitions to the shrinker sock and there’s nothing for Kevin to try and help with. John does all of his stretching and strengthening exercises while Kevin is at work, it’s just one more thing he’s locking Kevin out of.

When Kevin asks about his day, all John can relay are shrugs and monosyllabic answers. John knows that Kevin wants to be involved, but he just can’t make himself talk. He doesn't have the energy or the desire to pretend that his days are filled with anything even remotely meaningful.

John purposely doesn’t tell Kevin about the appointment he made for his prosthetic fitting. He knew that Kevin had wanted to go along, but John took Billy instead. When Kevin finds out, to say he’s angry is an understatement. He rails at John while John sits on the couch not blinking, not moving and not speaking. 

It also isn’t helping that John’s avoided every single advance Kevin has made. He’s avoiding physical intimacy with Kevin like Kevin is patient zero of the apocalypse. In one of his more open moments he tries to explain to Kevin that he just doesn’t have a sex drive right now. Kevin countered bitterly, “How do you know, you won’t let me try?”

“How can I let you try? My skin crawls every time you touch me,” John answers harshly. In hindsight he probably should have kept that to himself. John knows he’s being an asshole. He doesn’t know where it's coming from and he feels powerless to stop it. 

Kevin had slept somewhere else that night. It was the beginning of their constant bickering. 

***

John’s angry all the time. He’s so fucking angry he wants to scream every second of the day. There are hours on end where rage consumes him to the point that he can’t sit still, he can’t stand still, he can’t _be_ still. Something inside him is demanding him to move. That movement usually results in something being decimated.

Kevin frequently comes home to broken glass shards scattered through the apartment. John’s anger and disappointment seem to manifest at the slightest provocation.

The day he opens the refrigerator and realizes they’re out of mustard, John hurls every other condiment, from salad dressing to pickles, in the fridge across the kitchen. By the time he’s done there’s a hole in the drywall and John is shaking, covered in sweat and panting as he leans against the counter.

John tries to sweep up the remnants of his rage himself but sweeping and crutches don’t exactly mix and when he tries and inevitably fails, he just gets furious all over again. Before he knows it, more shit is hitting the ground and shattering into a thousand pieces. 

Kevin just cleans up with a sigh and brings home another eight pack of drinking glasses. 

Those are the days that John manages to get out of bed and function somewhat. Other days he just pulls the covers over his head and sleeps, the weight of his lost leg and his lost career weighing him down until he feels like he’s drowning.

“Talk to me,” Kevin pleads. Except John can’t because he doesn't know what to say or how to say it without sounding like he’s blaming Kevin for having two working legs. There’s no way that Kevin can relate. Kevin tells John that he needs to talk to someone if John refuses to let him in.

***

After two months back at home, John starts having nightmares. He wakes up screaming, clutching at himself, arms flailing out in the dead of the night. He never remembers the dreams; just his pounding heart, the feeling of suffocating, and overwhelming helplessness.

His last argument with Kevin comes in the wake of another nightmare. This time John’s elbow catches Kevin’s eye before he can get out of the way. The light flipping on overhead is what pulls John out of the dream. 

They argue in the kitchen, as Kevin holds a bag of peas to his face, about John’s unwillingness to get the help he needs in order to deal with his anxiety and depression. And while Kevin knows it wasn’t purposeful, he accuses John of not showing a whole lot of remorse for the black eye he’s surely going to have come morning.

They argue about Kevin’s inability to be more sympathetic and finally they argue about the fact that John doesn’t really love him even after two years together.

John doesn’t know what to say. He can’t make himself feel it. He cares for Kevin, but he’s not in love with him, he can’t say with any certainty that he ever will be.

By the end of the argument Kevin is throwing his keys across the room and storming out of the apartment. John feels like he should be more upset than he is. But all he feels is numb and a sense of relief. 

Even though it’s four am, John calls Billy. John knows he needs help, has known for a while, and he figures it’s time. He’s not doing it for Kevin, that ship has sailed and it's just as well. John needs to learn to live with himself again and he can’t do it in the shape he’s in. He needs to learn how to move on.

He’s been out of the hospital three months now, he’s had the first fitting for his prosthetic, he’s in physical therapy, he might as well complete the therapy circle.  
Billy shows up twenty minutes later and finds John halfway into the good scotch. Billy sprawls out next to him and reaches for the bottle. They trade it back and forth for several long, silent minutes.

Billy pulls John’s legs up into his lap and he rubs gently at the end of John’s stump. Billy’s the only person John allows to touch it. Billy never looks at him with pity, never treats him like there’s something wrong with him.

Billy waits for him to speak, he doesn’t push. When John starts, he can’t stop. He tells him about the bathroom break downs and his complete disinterest in sex. He tells Billy about the anxiety he can’t shake and the way he breaks out in a cold sweat a dozen time a day, with his heart racing and hands shaking. 

He tells him about the fits of rage he can’t control and the myriad of broken dishes and furniture, the vacuum he threw across the room so hard it dented the wall. He tells him about the days his eye feel too heavy to even open.

He tells Billy about the fights with Kevin, about the black eye, about the fact that he doesn’t love Kevin.

“Billy, what’s wrong with me?” John’s words slur through tears and alcohol. “Why can’t I love anyone the way they deserve.” Billy takes the scotch from John, taking a shallow swig.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You just haven’t--”

“I swear if you say met the right person I’m going to punch you.” John glares at Billy.

“It’s true, and right now you couldn’t find my face with your fist if I drew you a map.”

John murmurs a soft sound in agreement. That’s probably true, he’s had too much scotch to even bother trying. John leans forward to poke Billy in the stomach. 

“Why couldn't we make a go of it? I could have loved you. You’re the perfect person. You’re so fucking loyal.” Billy snorts and rolls his eyes. “Loyalty isn’t a bad trait to have, Billy.”

“Yeah, it’s great, I’m the local golden retriever.” Billy sets the mostly empty bottle of Glenfiddich on the coffee table and gets an arm under John’s head and one under his knees.

“Don’t fucking carry me, you know I fucking hate that.”

“You can’t get there by yourself right now, don’t be an asshole.”

Billy slowly carries John into his bedroom. When Billy puts him down John grabs his shirt. “I need help. I need to see someone.” Billy nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

***

The next morning John finds a sheet of paper with the names and phone numbers of three psychologists on the kitchen table. He makes the call once he’s no longer hung over. 

He sees the psychologist, Sarah, twice a week at first. He cries more in the following month than he has in his entire life. But he has to admit it feels good to finally be able to start to shake off the cloak of anxiety and sadness that had settled over him. It feels good to be able to tell someone how angry he is, and to admit that he’s angriest at himself because he knew better and this is no one’s fault but his own. He wants to blame someone and that someone is him. 

He learns how to start the process of forgiving himself.

Sarah tells him to start a journal. To carry it everywhere with him and write down every emotion that starts to overwhelm him. She tells him to look for a pattern. She asks him if he wants medication for the depression and he hesitates, but he takes the meds, he knows he needs them. She tells him that in the future she’ll wean him off and hopefully he won’t need them again.

Three times a week John’s at rehab. That’s where he meets Max. She’s tiny, brutal, doesn’t put up with his shit, and most importantly, she won’t let him give up. On one of his tougher days, when the pain won’t let up and his leg keeps buckling, she held a cold compress to his neck until the nausea passed and the cold sweat he broke out in subsided. Then she forced him back up and between the bars to walk. She somehow always knows his limits, she knows when to push and when to back off. 

When John tells Max about Sarah, Max nods, approval written in her face. When their session is over for the day she takes him three rooms away. There, nestled among the weights and training machines, are a standing punching bag on wheels and a speed bag.

“For whenever you need to work out that anger. Let me know, I can tape your hands.” John doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to, he just nods at her. 

John takes Max up on her offer at the next session. He’s not yet at a point where he can stand on the prosthetic for long periods of time, so the workout doesn’t last long, but by the end, John is covered in sweat and he feels a lot less tension weighing him down.

Between the boxing and his therapy, John’s nightmares start diminishing. Finally able to get a good night’s sleep, John feels more energetic and starts to look forward to getting out of the house. 

He starts shopping for himself again, dragging Billy along more often than not. Billy doesn't complain, he just follows along unobtrusively. John’s not yet to the stage of his rehab where he can wear his prosthetic for everyday outings, so he’s on crutches, his pant leg pinned up. The stares no longer bother him they way they used to. It’s curiosity, he gets that, but sometimes he wishes that, instead of staring, people would just ask him.

He still gets hit on, by men and women. Currently the cocktail of pills he’s taking make his dick as useless as tits on a boar so he doesn’t even bother returning the interested looks. Sarah tells him it’s a pretty common side effect and as they start to wean him off he’ll recover fully. John really hopes so because he misses his cock and jerking off. 

He spends the next six months in one therapy session or another. He gets better at boxing, and when Max releases him after graduating to his definitive prosthetic, he joins a local boxing club that specializes in training amputees. He enjoys beating the heavy bag and would like to continue. 

John tells Max they should get a drink sometime and before she can tell him no, he tells her he’s gay and there is zero chance he’s hitting on her. He just really enjoys her company and he needs some friends that don’t remind him of a life he no longer has. 

They meet for drinks almost every Saturday. She slides into his life as if she’d always been there. Even Billy can’t find anything wrong with her, he understands why John needs someone in his life who doesn’t remind him of all the things he lost.

***

Eight months after their first session, Sarah starts weaning John off his cocktail, taking the dosages down in small increments, looking for any setbacks. While John still feels a measure of sadness that his career is over, he’s no longer plagued by the crippling anger and anxiety that had brought him to Sarah’s office to begin with.

By the time John’s off the medication completely he’s only seeing Sarah once a month. He still takes his journal almost everywhere he goes and he still writes every day, but John knows he’s back to as close to himself as he’ll ever be and he’s okay with that.

His sex drive comes back with a vengeance. One day he’s not even remotely horny. The next, it’s damn near debilitating how often he daydreams about being fucked. He spends hours—on the couch, in bed, in the shower—jerking off. He’s ordered three more dildos and a vibrating plug and he’s still hard more often than not.

When he tells Max, she damn near laughs herself sick. She dresses him that night to the nines. Navy blue polo, all three buttons open, sleeves tight around his biceps, and dark jeans that mold to his ass like a second skin. Not fifteen minutes after entering the club, John’s backed up against a wall, a tongue in his mouth and a hand down his pants. He comes so fast he ought to be embarrassed. 

After that John starts going on dates again. He meet Ethan at the grocery store over Asian Pears. He and Ethan go on two dates before John tells him about the fire and his leg. Ethan just shrugs, says his cousin lost both legs in Afghanistan. John relaxes. 

Everything seems fine for about three months and then Ethan invites him on a camping trip with some of Ethan’s other friends. He asks John not to wear shorts. That’s the last time he sees Ethan.

John goes through four different guys in the next two years before he swears off dating. The ones that can handle the fact that John is missing a limb have some weird ideas about how John should behave and the ones who can’t, well, they don’t last the night. 

Max nurses him through each break up, she tells him that there’s nothing wrong with him despite John’s drunken diatribes to the contrary. He tells her he’s going to stay strictly to hookups from now on, especially after the fireworks show that was breaking up with Colin. 

Colin, John’s last boyfriend, had been an asshole at the end. He’d purposely moved John’s prosthetic out of John’s reach trapping him in bed with no escape during their last fight. The full level of his douchebaggery wouldn’t be discovered for several months after their parting. 

***

Two and half years after his accident, John decides that retirement is much too boring and he needs something to occupy his time and his mind. After visiting Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden, John decides on a new career path. He goes back to school, enrolling in the Miami School of Floral Design. By the time all is said and done he’s completed his master class. Working flowers into a design that creates a mood is challenging, but it brings him peace on a level he hasn’t known since before the accident. He loves being able to create something beautiful, something that moves people, with his hands the same way he used to be able to save someone with his hands.

By the time he’s finished with his degree, he’s scoped out a perfect spot for a small shop specializing in special occasion floral design. 

John contacts the chamber of commerce and finds out what he needs to do to book himself a booth at the next Bridal Expo. A month later he’s a registered wedding vendor. On the weekend of the show he enlists the help of Billy, Max and Charles. In addition to displayed photo sets, he brings several pallets of live flowers with him to show the brides-to-be on the spot exactly what he can do. He books three weddings on the very first day of the show.

He earns a name for himself by word of mouth, eventually finding himself working for some of the more affluent families. After a rave review in the Miami Herald, John’s not only doing weddings, but banquets and charity fundraisers as well. He hires four more people and gets Max to help him out on the side during the weekend.

John works six days a week, closed only on Sundays to give himself and his staff some time away. But John’s never been good at being idle. He begins volunteering on his days off. He spends his Sunday’s delivering breakfast and lunch to Hospice patients. John has always needed to do something for people, to give back some of the good fortune he’s had. Being a firefighter had always filled that need in him. Now John fills it by talking to men and women whose history is fascinating to John, many of them are veterans. Through these patients, John is learning more about the US than most Americans probably learn in a lifetime.

John starts getting phone calls on a Saturday night around midnight almost three years exactly after losing his leg. They’re all from men in various stages of inebriation all of them asking John to show them a good time. It takes a while but it eventually clicks. 

Someone, John is going to guess Colin, wrote John’s name in a bathroom stall in one of the hundreds of gay clubs in Miami. No matter how many times John asks, no one will tell him which one. He thinks about turning his phone off at night but immediately rejects the idea. He still has too many friends at the fire department and he’d never forgive himself if he missed a call from one of them in need. 

On one particularly long Saturday night in May, John gets a phone call that will alter the rest of his life. The British accent on the other end sends a bolt of longing so strong through his whole body that he’s instantly wide awake. He checks the number, it’s a Miami area code. 

There’s another brit somewhere in Miami and he’s ended up with John’s number.

* * *

_JAMES_  
James hadn’t realized when he’d joined the Coast Guard just how much he would enjoy it. There’s no set schedule, they’re always on call, unless they’re over at the docks doing incoming inspections from freight liners. Weeks will go by where James can work a fairly normal schedule. Other weeks, he’s on every day for ten, twelve, eighteen hours at a time for days or weeks in a row. 

He spends all his time on the ocean or in a helicopter and the views he has are spectacular. The ocean is a vast yawning blue that brings an inner peace to James that he’d only ever experienced while flying fast jets for the Navy. Except during hurricane season, but even the the violence of the storm is beautiful to him. The way the rain will blow sideways and the white swells of water will crest is like performance art to James.

There’s a category two hurricane scheduled to make landfall in the next twenty-four hours. The coast has been evacuated, the Governor has declared a state of emergency, and the National Guard is bunking down in the Coast Guard barracks to be ready as soon as they’re needed.

James has been at the Coast Guard station on MacArthur Causeway for the last forty-eight hours straight. Captain Gates sends him home for some sleep before he falls over. Hal tells him to report back in eighteen hours, rested and fed.

James has spent too many hours of preparing supplies, staring at the radar, and monitoring NOAA communications. When he gets home he drops his keys and shoes and starts up the stairs. He hopes to try and get as many hours of sleep as possible before has to be back at the station for duty. He meets Miranda and Thomas halfway as they make their way down the stairs.

James turns as they pass him on the stairs. “I know you’re not planning on going anywhere with this storm coming in.” He follows them back down the stairs. 

Thomas smiles at James, tugging playfully at the hem of the shirt James had started to untuck. “Darling, we’re just going out to grab a quick bite to eat. Would you like us to bring you back something?” 

“Where exactly do you think you’re going to get something to eat? Everyone has evacuated there isn’t a restaurant in sixty miles that is open.” The only reason they’re still here is because James isn’t required to evacuate and they’re forty miles from the coast in a house that could double as a fort, built strong enough to withstand two hundred and twenty-five mile an hour wind speeds.

“We have our sources.” Miranda says airily. 

“Stay away from the marina. This storm is coming hard and fast.”

“Yes, darling, no boat, no marina.” Miranda waves him off the subject. James quickly follows Miranda as she walks into the foyer, his sleep momentarily forgotten. “Just because you were born on the ocean doesn’t mean you’re immune to hurricane force winds, no matter what your mother has told you.”

Thomas slides up behind James, hands furrowing into James’s pants pockets, “I promise to keep her on dry land if you promise to do that thing with your tongue later.” Thomas’s voice is low and filthy and filled with promise. James instantly wishes he weren’t so fucking tired he could barely keep his eyes open. 

Miranda crosses the foyer and bites at his neck, she waggles her eyebrows at him, “For both of us?”

By the time they leave, James is half undressed and half hard. Thomas and Miranda have never been able to resist the draw of his uniform. No one will ever hear him complain about it either. He watches them go, makes sure they leave the boat keys where they hang on the hook, and then he falls into bed, sleep coming immediately.

***

It’s too quiet when he wakes. Checking the clock James realizes it’s almost midnight and he’s been out for over ten hours. It’s pitch dark and the rain is slashing against the windows, the wind whipping the trees to and fro. There’s no one in bed beside him as there should be. 

When he hits the landing the entire house is dark. Unease curls in his gut and his his palms start to sweat. He jogs down the stairs straight toward the rack where they hang all their keys. James’s heart stops when he sees that the keys for _The Unkept_ are missing.

He runs back up the stairs two at a time to throw on clothes and shoes. By the time he reaches the marina to check their slip, James is a ball of angry, nervous energy. There was no one at the marina who would have or could have stopped them from sailing out had they decided to, they own the place and no one says no to the Hamiltons. 

The boat is gone and James screams his frustration into the storm around him. He races to the station out on the causeway. He’s frantically tugging on his rescue swimmer suit when Hal finds him. In his haste James has completely disregarded standard protocol and hasn’t bothered to don any of the insulated undergarments.

“James, what are you doing?” There’s a quiet kind of caution in Hal’s voice that in any other circumstance would cause James to pause and rethink his actions. Today he’s having none of it. 

James looks at Hal sideways as he continues to quickly close the seals on his suit. 

“They’re out there. In that. Thomas and Miranda took the fucking boat. I have to go find them.” 

Hal stares at him for half a second before he shakes his head. Walking closer to James he unzips James’s suits and starts opening the seals. “You’re not going out there. No one is going out there.” James tries batting Hal’s hands away only to have Hal grab the front of the suit and shake him where he stands.

James can feel the panic welling up. He’s always prided himself on being a fairly calm individual in an emergency but there is no room for him to step back and assess the situation reasonably right now. That’s his entire life and reason for being out there in the middle of a hurricane.

“Hal, I have to--”

“No. And that’s an order.” 

It takes every bit of training James has not to launch himself at his CO. James tries to plead. He’s never begged a day in his life for anything but right now he’d get down on his knees if that’s what needs to happen.

“I can’t let you take a boat, or yourself out in this. I know what's at stake, James, and I’m sorry, but I will handcuff you if I have to.” James knows it’s useless to try to convince Hal to let him go out. Once his CO makes his mind up, there’s no changing it. All he can do now is wait and hope Thomas and Miranda make it back to him.

James falls back to the bench behind him. He tugs the suit off and slumps back. He can feel his eyes sting. He stares straight ahead at the tempst in front of him for long minutes before Hal takes him by the shoulder and herds him back into the station where they wait out landfall.

***

It’s twelve more hours before Hal releases him to go out with a crew. They search for miles and find nothing. James holds out hope that Thomas and Miranda somehow made it to one of the dozens of coves and managed to ride out the storm. 

He doesn’t hear from them and he tries to remain calm. Hal and his crew force him to eat and sleep, someone is with him around the clock. James feels like he’s under arrest. Later, when he’ll think back, he’ll know that Hal did the exact right thing. Had Hal not kept him under twenty-four hour watch he’d have taken a boat out by himself and not come back without them.

On the third day, Hal wakes him with a grim face. He tells James they’d found wreckage from _The Unkept_ off of Fischer Bay. But they didn’t find Miranda or Thomas. Hal expects that they’ll call off the search and rescue within the week since they’ve found most of the boat. The assumption is that the Hamiltons are gone.

James is numb. He spends long minutes just staring at Hal as if he’s grown a second head and is speaking Swahili. It can’t be true. That’s what he keeps repeating until he’s nearly hysterical. Hal takes him home, after much cajoling and finally gets him to bed. James fights it at first, he can’t imagine sleeping right now but after half an hour in the dark, the comforting scent of Thomas and Miranda all around him, the adrenaline wears off and the exhaustion takes over.

***

When James wakes up the next day all he wants to do is go back to sleep to block out the nightmare that his life has become. 

James sits himself down at the dining room table with a bottle of whiskey and his contact list. He calls Jack first. Jack’s the closest thing James has to family in the US and he’s one of the few people who knows the complete and unfiltered truth about James, Thomas, and Miranda. 

Jack’s out of town. According to his assistant there was a piece of art in Italy that he’d just had to go inspect before purchasing, but Henry assures James that he will contact Jack immediately. 

James calls Anne next. At first she can’t understand him through the violent sobs. Through fits and starts he tells her the whole story. Finding them gone, Hal’s refusal to let him go out, to which Anne replies at least one of them was thinking. He tells her that they’ve found pieces of the boat, but still no Thomas or Miranda. James tells her that while they’re still searching, he knows there’s little hope and that protocol demands the search be called off soon. Having just put in for retirement, Anne has nowhere else to be. She tells James she’ll be on the next flight out.

The next call is much harder. Miranda’s mother is no stranger to death. In the last two years she’s buried a husband, a brother, and a nephew. James knows Miranda will be the hardest of all.

The silver lining is that Miranda’s mother also knows the nature of his relationship with Thomas and Miranda. She’d guessed the last time she’d been out for a visit. Claire was a very shrewd, very observant woman. She’s the complete opposite of Thomas’s parents, whom James won’t contact himself. 

Claire will be the liaison between Thomas’s parents and James. Thomas’s parents are extreme conservatives who never understood James’s place in Thomas and Miranda’s life. It wasn’t as if they didn’t also know the nature of the relationship. They’d been caught by Thomas’s father, the three of them had been in the hot tub one summer night when Alfred had returned because he’d forgotten his Blackberry. 

_Miranda was situated in James’s lap, Thomas sitting beside them, his hand below the water teasing at James’s hole as Miranda rode him. James had his head back as Thomas licked across his throat, encouraging James to fuck himself on Thomas’s fingers._

_“What the hell is going on here?” At the sound of Alfred Hamilton’s voice, Miranda had immediately moved from James’s lap, giving James a full view of Alfred’s deeply frowning face._

_“Exactly what it looks like.” Thomas’s voice is hard._

_“You’re thirty five years old, don’t you think it’s time you stopped rebelling against your mother and I? You’re only hurting yourself at this point. I suppose I should just be thankful that you’re not the faggot taking it up the ass.”_

_Thomas stage whispers to Miranda, “Wouldn’t he be horrified to know exactly what’s been up my ass.”_

_As Alfred opens his mouth to berate his son once again James stands to his full height, naked as the day he was born. “Alfred, your inflated sense of self importance and antiquated views are not welcome here. You need to mind your own goddamn business and get the hell out of our home.”_

_Thomas’s father had fish mouthed before turning on his heel and all but fleeing._

_Thomas and Miranda pulled James back into the water and the two of them proceeded to work James to three orgasms showing and telling him exactly how much his defense of them had meant._

It was still one of the best memories James has, it still makes him smile. 

He’s on the phone for an hour with Claire, the two of them comforting each other as best they could through a phone call. She tells James she’ll be on the next flight out of California. 

Jack calls him as he pours his fourth glass of whiskey. Just the sound of his voice is enough to send James into a spiral of tears and snot. Jack tells James that he’s at the airport and as soon as he can get into Miami he’ll be there. James passes out at the table shortly after they hang up.

***

James wakes several hours later, still mostly inebriated. He manages to shower and choke down a piece of toast before heading to the station to check in with Hal. He tries to talk Hal into letting him join the search but Hal refuses. 

“First, you’re drunk and I’m not letting you anywhere near anything that even remotely resembles duty.” Hal stares at him, arms crossed against his chest and James can feel the defeat starting to slump his shoulders. He’d known it was a long shot, but he’d had to try. “Second, you’re not emotionally fit to partake in this search. I’ll handle it, James, personally. I’ll make the dives, I’ll make the flyovers, if they’re out there, I will find them for you.”

Hal sends him home to wait for Jack and Anne. As he’s walking James out, Hal asks him if he wants to take a leave of absence. James thinks it’s probably for the best and Hal says he’ll take care of the paperwork and bring it by the house when it’s ready for his signature.

James doesn’t know what to do once he gets home. He tries to make himself eat only to be suddenly overcome with nausea as he tries to choke something down. He digs through Thomas’s liquor cabinet shoving aside the good whiskey to get to the rot gut at the back. If he’s going to drink himself into oblivion he’s not going to use an eight hundred dollar bottle of booze to do it. He still has some respect. James takes the bottle up to the bedroom with him. He turns the TV on for background noise and then proceeds to get blind drunk.

Jack is the first to show up. He breezes through the door and into James’s bedroom without a word. Jack makes enough noise that James wakes up, with bleary eyes and a pounding headache. James watches from the bed as Jack removes his boots before he climbs into the bed. James resists at first and then he curls into Jack and lets the tears come. He can feel the wetness on the crown of his head as Jack sheds his own tears.

Jack whispers to James over and over how sorry he is as he softly rubs a hand up and down James’s back. James cries himself back to sleep, face sticky and eyes nearly glued shut. He feels the brief swipe of a cloth over his face before he falls into near unconsciousness. 

The next time he wakes it’s to the sound of a quiet conversation. James feels warmth at his front and back and when the voices register, Anne’s thick accent sends James’s eyes shooting open to find her curled up behind him, talking to Jack over his prone form.

He turns into her and she immediately wraps him in her arms. She smells exactly the same as he remembers and for several seconds a sweeping feeling of relief crashes through him. He can survive anything with Anne beside him. 

James would have thought that his tears would have been dried up, but Anne’s soft voice and the feel of her hands stroking his hair bring him to the brink of despair once more and he again cries long enough to send himself back to sleep. 

James is alone the third time he wakes, his face is swollen and his eyes are itchy from the hours of crying. He hears voices from downstairs and slowly makes his way down. 

When he reaches the bottom step he sees Anne, Jack, and Claire, who had arrived sometime during his last nap, talking quietly with Hal as he stood in the doorway. Jack has his arm around Claire’s waist. 

Hal’s eyes meet his and James knows immediately why he’s here. All three of them follow Hal’s eyes to James. Clair breaks away from Jack and meets James where he’s still standing, rooted to the base of the steps. 

Claire hugs him and James fights another round of tears. After James and Claire rejoin the group at the door, Hal explains that after a week of countless dives, flyovers, and the recovery of what’s left of the Hamilton’s boat, they can no longer hold out hope that they’re still alive. Even if they had survived the initial capsizing of their vessel, they would have had very little hope of surviving the remainder of the storm in the ocean. 

It's all over. Thomas and Miranda Hamilton have been declared dead.

***

Hal manages to keep it out of the news for now so James isn’t overrun with well wishers. The Hamilton’s are the richest family in Miami. News of their disappearance and death would send a horde of unwelcome people to James’s doorstep—most of whom don’t know the nature of his relationship with Thomas and Miranda and who wouldn’t understand his grief. 

Making arrangements keeps James busy during the day but at night, when James enters their bedroom, his grief is crippling. With three other people occupying space in the rest of the house he can sometimes forget that Thomas and Miranda aren’t simply on vacation. But here in their bedroom, where all the memories are theirs alone, he can barely function for the heavy weight of loss that presses in on him. 

Claire and Jack make most of the phone calls. By the time Thomas’s parents arrive, the arrangements have all been made and a near constant stream of mourners are passing through the house on a daily basis. 

James only deals with a handful of them. Many of them know of James only as a close friend of Thomas and Miranda’s so his presence in the house isn’t questioned. Questions only begin to arise when James is seated alongside Miranda’s mother during the funeral services. Claire quiets them easily enough.

When the Hamilton’s will is read, no one is surprised to learn that they’d left everything they had to James and James alone. 

After the funeral is over and the mourners are gone, James is left with nothing but loneliness and an ache so deep that he doesn’t think it will ever be assauged. He’s taken to sleeping in a shirt from the hamper that Thomas had worn the night before the storm. He’s sprayed Miranda’s perfume over all the pillows on the bed. He’s taken Miranda’s favorite necklace and looped it around his ankle and in his pants pocket, he keeps Thomas’s cufflinks. He spends most of the day with one hand in his pocket rubbing over the smooth finish.

He doesn’t allow anyone in the bedroom now, its locked day and night, only he has the key. He’s dragged most of Thomas and Miranda’s clothes out of the closets; suits, dresses, jeans, and t-shirts are littering the floor in piles. There are half a dozen bottles of liquor throughout the room. Whisky, scotch, vodka—James isn’t picky, whatever will numb the pain. Most nights he falls asleep in one pile of clothes or the other, liquor bottle clutched to his side. 

Claire stays only a week more after the funeral. When she leaves it’s only him and Anne in the house, and any front that James had put on slides away. He refuses to eat and for a week, refuses to even leave the bed except to use the bathroom. Anne sits outside his bedroom door in the evening, begging James to come out or to at least let her in. But how can he? How can he explain the disaster that has become his bedroom?

Anne tells him that if he doesn’t come out soon she’s going to call Hal and Jack over to kick the door in. He relents and starts coming out every morning locking the door firmly behind him. He still refuses to let her into the bedroom. He knows what her reaction would be upon seeing the disaster that he’s created. He also doesn’t want to see the look on her face when she takes in the dozens of empty liquor bottles that James has used as a sleep aid. 

The devastation James feels as he walks through the house is crippling. He’s never felt loss like this. He just wants to sleep, but even in sleep he finds no relief. Even in sleep he loses them. He searches and searches, the ocean empty and dark as he swims through wave after wave. Eventually he finds them, they’re reaching out for him and he can’t reach them, their hands slipping through his. He wakes up in a cold sweat almost every night from the exact same nightmare. 

During the day he walks the house, room to room picking up random photographs and knick-knacks here and there as he goes; memories playing in his mind like movies. As he wanders through the study he twists the platinum band on his left ring finger. He can remember so vividly the day it had been given to him.

_The light goes on and James feels like a child being caught trying to sneak a cookie. He’d been intending to leave quietly in the middle of the night to give Thomas and Miranda some privacy. He’s sitting in Thomas’s study in the middle of slipping on his shoes when Thomas comes around to face him._

_“What are you doing?” Thomas asks carefully._

_“I thought maybe I should spend the night at my apartment?” James replies softly, tying the laces on his sneakers before sitting up straight._

_Thomas cocks an eyebrow, perplexed. “Why?”_

_James shrugs at first before saying, “You and Miranda have been very secretive lately and I’m afraid I’m wearing out my welcome. I thought perhaps you’d like a little time alone together.”_

_Thomas rubs a hand over his face and says, “I told her you were too smart not to notice what was going on. Just, stay right here for a moment.” James watches him rifle through his desk before coming back with a robin egg blue box._

_“We had wanted to do this next week, on our anniversary, and she’s going to be angry I didn’t wake her, but I think you need to see this now.”_

_James is mildly confused, Thomas and Miranda’s anniversary was three months ago. He takes the box Thomas hands him and opens it._

_Nestled inside is a wide platinum band. As he looks closer he sees engraving on the inside. Separated by hearts are all three of their initials and the date of their first dinner. He damn near drops the box when it hits him what Thomas had meant by their anniversary. He meant the three of them._

_When he looks up Thomas is holding a sheaf of papers. “We’ve added your name to the deed of the house and you now are the sole beneficiary of everything we own. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us for quite some time to come.” James is speechless._

_Thomas takes the box from his hand and slides the ring onto James’s finger. “Miranda is going to be rather annoyed that she missed this look on your face, but I’m not sorry I have you to myself right now. James, I love Miranda, with everything in me, and in new and different ways every day. I could never see myself, or my life, without her, but you have set me free and the love I feel for you, I can’t put into words.”_

_Thomas had taken him right there in the study with no preamble. Miranda had found them later in the morning wrapped up together on the wide sectional in the family room. Thomas had been right. She’d been upset that she hadn’t been there to give James the ring, but she just shook her head, saying nothing, and snuggled her way between them so they could nap together._

James sits in Thomas’s chair to stare at the picture sitting on the desk of the three of them. It had been taken a little over six months ago during the Regatta. James was in the middle, Thomas on his left and Miranda on his right. All three of them had sunburned noses and drunken smiles. He strokes his finger over the picture once.

Without warning he hurls it across the room. The frame cracks and the glass shatters as it hits the wall. James instantly feels guilty and begins cleaning up the mess. That night, as he lies sideways on their bed, he begs forgiveness for the momentary lapse. 

***

Two days later he’s listening to Anne berate him from the other side of the door. 

“You need to eat, you need to come out of that room, and you need to think about rejoining civilization.”

James heaves a sigh and sets down the bottle of gin he was holding. He brushes his teeth and changes his clothes before leaving and locking the door behind him.

When she sets a plate of eggs in front of him she says, “I don’t like it that you won’t let me in there. You’ve never hidden things from me before and you’re starting to scare me.”

James pushes the eggs away and goes for the tea she’d set next to the eggs. He thinks of Miranda and how she had tried to master the art of making tea, but she had always been terrible at it. James never did let on.

“You have to eat.” James looked up at Anne leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a familiar look on her face telling him he was in for a lecture.

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“You’re twelve again are you?” James just gives her a sour look. Anne pushes herself off from the counter to lean over the table, pinning James with her stare. “James, I know that--”

“You don’t know a fucking thing.” James yells, his arm sweeping the plate off the counter. It shatters, scattering eggs and shards of glass across the floor. He storms out of the kitchen and into the garage. He pulls one of Thomas’s golf clubs from the bag and heads for Thomas’s BMW NAZCA M12.

He starts with the headlights. One flick of his wrist and the glass explodes. He moves onto the hood, slamming the nine iron into the silver metal over and over leaving more than three dozen dents in his wake. He takes to the windshield, the glass spidering under the force behind James’s blows but not breaking. It makes him angrier that the tempered glass won’t give under his hand.

James only works harder, faster, the need to shatter the glass taking control over all other needs. He spins and nails the driver’s side window a dozen times. By the time James has managed to hit almost every surface of Thomas’s most beloved possession, he’s drenched in sweat, arms and legs shaking from exertion, tears streaking down his face. 

Anne reaches him before he collapses to the floor. She’s rocks him as he cries. He can hear himself repeating that he’s sorry. He’s not sure who he’s apologizing to. Anne for screaming at her, Thomas for beating his car into a pulp, or both Thomas and Miranda for not saving them.

That night he leaves the door to his bedroom unlocked. As he’s lying in bed, he hears Anne try the handle. He’s too drunk to get up. When the door opens under her hand Anne immediately goes for the light switch. 

She takes in the piles of clothes, the broken furniture, the ripped paintings and the three dozen bottles of empty liquor scattered throughout the room. James watches her face waiting for judgement to come. It never does. Instead she cuddles him close and apologizes to him.

“I should have been paying closer attention. I’m so sorry, James. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks with emotion as she pulls James impossibly closer.

James falls asleep with his face pressed to her stomach and her hands in his hair. 

***

_He can see Thomas and Miranda in front of him, the bubbles slowly trailing up from their mouths, they’re reaching for him, eyes wide and terrified and James can’t swim fast enough. No matter how hard he kicks he’s not moving. They keep sinking out of sight and he can’t reach them. He’s screaming for them and the water is rushing into his mouth, into his lungs but he keeps kicking his feet. He’s calling out to them, pleading with them to fight, to swim._

James slams back into his body as the light overhead flips on. He realizes he's sitting up and the screams he'd hard had been his own. Anne stands in the doorway, eyes wide, and he realizes he’d been dreaming. The tears come without any warning. “I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t reach them.”

Anne climbs into bed with him, arms wrapped around his body as she rocks him. She doesn’t tell him it’s okay, because they both know it’s not. She just runs her hands over his head and down his back, until the tears are all dried up.

“That’s the sixth dream in as many days. It’s six months now you’ve been having these dreams. You barely leave the house, some days you barely leave this bed.” Anne spoke softly, as she continues to gently run her hands up and down his back. “You’ve lost two stone since I’ve arrived. You need to see someone. You can’t keep on like this. They wouldn’t want this for you.”

As much as he’d liked to tell her she doesn’t know what they’d want, he knows she’s right. Thomas and Miranda had loved him with everything they had and if they knew what hell he was putting himself though they’d be disappointed in him. They wouldn’t expect him to cling to their memory this way. They wouldn’t want him to forgo living his life.

The next day he calls Hal. They haven’t spoken since the funeral, he’s still on leave. He asks Hal to meet for lunch. 

“I can’t come back. I can’t go out there,” James blurts out before he’s even settled in the seat across from Hal.

Those weren’t the words that James had wanted to open with. Hal only nods. They discuss the particulars of what will be needed for James to be discharged. He makes an appointment with the department psychologist at Hal’s urging. 

“Everyone misses you.” James nods, he knows it’s true. But it's not enough to make him stay. Hal continues, seeing the truth of it in James’s face, “Just, please. Before you decide anything, see the psychologist. If you feel the same, we’ll discuss retirement and discharge options then.” James is silent for a few minutes, but agrees. 

He makes an appointment with Captain Morel for the following week. Ten minutes into the appointment, after James explains the nature of his relationship with Thomas and Miranda, Captain Morel excuses himself from seeing James by telling him that he has a religious objection to James’s lifestyle. 

James leaves without a word. He sends a text to Hal and asks him to forward retirement paperwork to James’s personal email account. 

Anne is angry. She rails that the man is a professional and he should be able to separate his personal feelings. She calls Morel a useless waste of space. She then convinces James to try a psychologist in private practice. She tells James she’ll find someone. Two days later she has a name for him, Carter Belton. James makes an appointment for the following week.

Carter is younger than James. It’s mildly uncomfortable until Carter smiles at him encouragingly after James tells him how he met the Hamiltons. Carter never once passes judgement. He only tells James that he’s sorry for his loss. 

In their second session, James tells Carter in halting sentences that he’d wanted to join them. That the reason he’d pushed so hard to be part of the search was because he’d imagined drowning himself. Carter tells him that’s a perfectly normal feeling and that he has nothing to be ashamed of. 

Two weeks into their bi-weekly session, Carter says to James, “It’s alright to be angry at them.”

James’s head snaps up. How in the everloving hell could he possibly be angry with them. They were dead and he wasn’t. 

“They left you, they didn’t listen to you. Of course you’re angry at them.”

James starts to shake his head but he realizes that Carter is right. He’s fucking furious at both of them. And on the heels of that anger comes guilt and remorse. Guilt for blaming them for their own deaths and remorse that he couldn’t save them.

He feels himself start to shake. He needs to get out of this office, out of this chair, out of this building, just out. He has to go. He hears Carter calling his name and he sounds so far away. His vision is blurry and everything seems to slow down almost like he’s the one underwater.

“James. James can you hear me?”

James snaps back into living color so fast he’s dizzy. Carter is kneeling in front of him, hands on James’s knees. 

“Is that the first anxiety attack you’ve had?” James shakes his head. It’s about the twentieth. 

Carter prescribes a cocktail of mild antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. James takes them reluctantly but Anne tells him he won’t need them forever. 

After three weeks on medication James starts to feel a little less like joining Thomas and Miranda in the afterlife and a little more like joining Anne and the living. 

***  
James makes sure that he schedules an appointment with Carter for the first anniversary of Thomas and Miranda’s death. Anne has long since gone back to England and James has re-entered society. He sees Jack once a week, they have a standing dinner date every Thursday. 

After dinner they end up back at James’s house and proceed to drink themselves unconscious. Jack is the only friend that James had bothered to retain, mostly because Jack had refused to leave him. James is more than thankful.

The meds have helped keep James on track and Carter has suggested that they begin weaning him off them. James is nervous, afraid he’ll revert to the hermit, manic behavior of the past. 

James sits in Carter’s office mostly silent, staring out the window to his left, hands clasped lightly in his lap, the fingers on his right hand unconsciously twisting the ring on his left. He’s said all of six words since he showed up for his appointment twenty minutes ago. 

“I’m bored at home. I’m so sick of wandering aimlessly around the house.” James quickly looks over at Carter, continuing, “It makes me feel guilty that I’m bored. What do I have to complain about? Thomas and Miranda can’t complain about anything.” James’s gaze falls to his hands in his lap, eyes watching himself spin his ring round and round. 

Carter silently watches James as his thumb worries the surface of the platinum band. He lets the silence sit for a moment when James stops talking. “What do you see yourself doing?”

Immediately James answers, “Something to help people.”

At the end of their hour, Carter gives him the number of the regional Habitat for Humanity director. He tells James to check it out.

A week later James pulls the slightly tattered card from his wallet. He tells the woman who answers the phone that he’d been referred by Carter. She schedules an appointment for James to meet Monty the following Monday. 

They get along instantly and Monty puts him on a crew starting that Saturday. The first house James helps build is for a woman and her three children who lost everything in the hurricane a year ago and have been house hopping between friends and relatives. Monty lets James give her the keys when they’re done and she bursts into tears and latches onto James in a bone crushing hug. 

James feels peace settle over him for those brief moments in a way he hasn’t experienced since losing Thomas and Miranda. 

The physical labor makes his body ache, but his mind quiets as he hammers nails and hangs drywall. He learns basic carpentry on the job and it awakens a deep thirst for knowledge inside him. 

His drive to excel propels him toward the local college and their vocational classes. He starts taking carpentry classes and electrical classes followed by architecture and structural design. Before he knows it, he’s halfway to graduating with more than just a certificate.

His days and weekends are taken up by anything Monty can give him. He loves the physicality of it. He loves that his hands have calluses. He loves that he’s got a tan line just above his ankle from work boots. He loves the weight of a tool belt around his waist. But mostly he loves the feeling of giving back to the community he loves. 

Leaving the Coast Guard had left a void in James that he had assumed was part of losing and Thomas and Miranda. Later he realized that he missed having a purpose and losing that was part of what had set him adrift for so long. 

***

Two years after joining Habitat for Humanity, Monty retires and offers his job to James. James accepts gladly. That evening on his way home, he drives to the marina. He hasn’t been back since he sold it almost three years ago. 

He walks to the slip where _The Unkept_ had been docked. The new owners had never reissued the Hamilton’s space as a memorial to them. James sits down on the damp boards and looks out over the water. 

Water laps gently at the dock and James lets the sadness that’s always with him wash over him. It’s different now than it was almost three years ago. He can think about Thomas and Miranda without the blinding rage and the soul shattering emptiness that used to consume him.

Missing them has become a constant ache for him, but it no longer controls him, it no longer controls his life. He no longer wishes he had joined them. James sits at the marina for an hour thinking about the life he had and the life stretched out before him. He has a lot of years left on this planet. He thinks it’s time he starts to live them.

As he gets up from the dock, his phone rings. It’s one of the guys from his crew inviting him out to drinks with some of the team. He only hesitates a few seconds before he accepts. 

Later that evening, as he’s getting ready to go out, he turns the band on his finger three times before slowly removing it. He opens the top drawer of the jewelry box on his dresser. He kisses it once before setting it inside and sliding the drawer closed. 

Danny drags him into to a seedy go-go bar and James tries not to blush as he gets hit on. An hour in and James needs a few minutes to breath so he excuses himself to the bathroom. Sitting in the stall he notices large writing in bright red sharpie **Wanna have some fun, call me 281-7668**. His finger traces over the number. James doesn’t know what possesses him to call a stranger at one oh three in the morning but he does it nonetheless. 

When the groggy voice on the other end says, “No I won’t talk to you about sucking your cock,” it’s not the words that register. It’s the British accent. James is hit with a wave of homesickness so strong he’s struck silent for several seconds.

James laughs low and quiet, pauses, then asks, “What’s your name?”


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are conversations and a little heartache.

John humors the voice on the other end of the phone and he gives up his name. He finds out that he’s speaking to James, who is currently sitting in the bathroom of what he calls “the seediest bar he’s been in since his last hurrah on the East End of London before coming to the US.” That little tidbit of information immediately starts a conversation about where they’re each from and what they miss the most about England.

James asks John how his number came to be written on a bathroom wall and John tells him he thinks it was probably his ex, Colin, who was a douchebag of epic proportions. James agrees that it was rude, no matter what John might have done. John is instantly indignant.

“And why does the end of the relationship have to be my fault?” John huffs.

“Well, writing your number on the wall of a seedy bar is not the work of someone who went through an amicable break up. You must have done something to make him that angry.”

“I may have told him he had a tiny cock in the middle of an argument once.”

James just laughs. “Was it true?”

“Not really, but he was such a narcissist that I felt the need to take him down a notch.”

By the time John looks at the clock an hour has passed, he has to be up in two to start deliveries. He tells James that it was nice speaking with him and it wouldn’t be awful if James didn’t lose his number but John has no illusions, any guy calling a number off a bathroom wall has to have something wrong with him.

John doesn’t bother going back to sleep. He gets up and spends half an hour on the chin up bar he’d installed last month. Afterward he showers and then heats up grits for breakfast. By the time he’s walking out the door he’s almost completely forgotten about the phone call.

John delivers to Herschel first. He’s a gulf war veteran who has terminal throat cancer and is missing both legs—IED he’d told John during John’s first delivery. They talk for half an hour about Herschel’s brand new granddaughter. Babies are all the same to him but he coos over the pictures anyway.

The rest of John’s day is much the same. He meets Billy for dinner since Charles is out of town at a seminar and they spend the rest of the night playing Mario Kart.

“I’m going to ask Charles to marry me.” Billy blurts out in the middle of the game.

John drops the controller and turns to face Billy asking excitedly, “Are you kidding me?”

John sees Billy swallow nervously before shaking his head. John softens his voice, “Hey, he’s going to say yes.”

“Is he?” Billy voice is high and tight and John can feel the tension coming off him in waves.

“What’s the matter?”John turns to fully face Billy.

Billy rubs his palms on his jeans, “He told me a long time ago that he thinks weddings are stupid and that they cause relationships to fail. What if he’s right?”

“He’s wrong, okay? Ask him, he’ll say yes and you’ll live in disgusting married bliss making the rest of us nauseous with your happiness for ever and ever amen.”

Billy smiles at him before cuffing him on the head, John lets him win the rest of the games they play.

***

John remembers the conversation with James the next day at his shop while he and Max are working on getting the flowers together for a weekend wedding. Six months ago, after much cajoling, he had managed to convince Max to moonlight at the shop on her days off. She had been invaluable to John in helping hire employees to run the shop when John is with clients or needs time off.

She crinkles her nose at him. “Don’t pick up if he calls again. Why do you keep answering in the middle of the night? You know it’s just some sleaze wanting you to get them off.”

John feels more defensive than he probably should about a man he doesn't really know. “He wasn’t sleazy, he was...normal.” He thinks maybe it’s the shared heritage that makes him want to defend James. He loves Max but he’s not sure she’d understand.

As hard as John tries to put it behind him, he can’t stop thinking about the sound of James’s voice and his laughter. He thinks about it enough that he eventually goes back through his call log and saves the number in his contacts. He rolls his eyes at himself, it’s not like he’s actually going to call the guy.

A week later, after a particularly fussy customer, John texts James. He doesn’t think twice after typing the message, just hits sends.

**Do Americans not know that we had the word favourite first and yes there is a U in it? I just had a woman read me the riot act over the card I’d attached to her daughter's birthday arrangement.**

That single text opens the floodgates. James ask him what he does for a living that includes writing out birthday greetings. By the end of the week they’re texting back and forth every day.

They bond over cheesy American ‘80s pop music, action movies, and a love of all things John Hughes. On one particular Sunday they spend the entire day talking only in Die Hard quotes. On a random Tuesday James texts him to tell him that they’re replaying The Breakfast Club on Cinemax.

**No commercials!** James always knows what’s most important.

In the beginning it’s mostly asinine observations about Americans that no one else would understand and conversations about what makes them the most homesick. After a particularly bad day, where John sticks to monosyllabic one words answers, James ups the ante.

**Are you alright?**

John stares at his phone wondering how he’s supposed to answer that. He’d run into Kevin earlier and the interaction hadn’t gone well.

_“You’d have never been completely happy with me, it was the best thing for both of us, to end it there.”_

_“It wasn’t your decision to make for me! You shut me out and you forced my hand and that wasn’t fair.” Kevin was obviously still angry and while John understood it, he still felt he’d made the right decision._

_“Kevin—” John starts and Kevin holds up his hand._

_“Don’t. I don’t need you to tell me again that you’ll never love me. Once was enough thanks.”_

_Kevin had walked away angry and John had walked away feeling useless and broken._

John texts back, tells James as much of the truth as he can without giving everything away.

**Ran into an ex today. It didn’t go well.**

**He’s an ex for a reason, yes?**

**Yes. Although if you ask him it’s not a good reason and I’m a heartless dick.**

**I refuse to believe that. And selfishly I can’t feel sorry for him. If you were still with him you most likely wouldn’t be talking to me and I quite enjoy our conversations.**

John chooses not to examine the pleasure that courses through him at James’s reply too closely. Nor does he acknowledge the fact that it lifts him out of the gloom he’d been in all day.

Over the next few weeks, their conversations start getting a little more personal. Not overly so, but they start dropping tidbits about themselves and get to know each other on more than just a surface level. John learns that James is a former Navy jet pilot and he’s incredibly impressed. He knows the training takes years. Most people don’t have that kind of dedication, John himself included. He finds out that they both came to the US on professional exchange programs and liked it enough to stay.

James tells him that he’d joined the Coast Guard after retiring from the Navy, only to retire from there several years later. He now runs a Habitat for Humanity chapter. James tells him that it’s the most satisfying thing he’s ever done.

John drops that he’s a retired firefighter now working as a glorified florist and that there may have been an article or two about his floral designs in the Miami Herald. He tells James he does it because he loves molding flowers into intricate patterns that dazzle and delight, he loves being able to create a mood.

John spends so much time with his phone in his hands for the next several months that Max and Billy are threatening to take it away from him whenever he’s with them. They’re both incredibly suspicious and have asked John more than once if he’s met someone.

John’s answer is that he’s just texting a friend, except Max and Billy both know all his friends and they know he’s lying through his teeth. John just smiles and shrugs, telling them it’s nothing.

***

Three months after beginning his conversations with James, Max manages to wrangle John’s phone from his hand one Saturday night while they’re blowing off steam at the local bar.

“Who’s James?”

John can feel his cheeks heat up. “Just a guy I know.”

“A guy you know? Wait, is this the guy from three months ago? Who called from the bar?” Her tone of voice tells John that she is not impressed.

John just shrugs. He doesn’t want to do this, at least not right now—four beers and two shots into the evening—when he can’t lie for shit. John spins his beer around on the table, listening to Max continue her lecture.

“John, he’s a creep. Normal guys don’t call phone numbers off of bathroom walls. Has he at least told you which bar so you can go scratch out your number?”

John feels his hackles rise. He doesn't mention the fact that he hasn’t gotten a single call since James first called him three months ago. He doesn’t think it’s a coincidence, but he’s never asked either.

“He’s not a creep. He’s different. He’s never asked for anything or suggested anything.” John tries to keep his annoyance out of his tone, he knows it won’t help his case.

“So he’s a creep playing the long game.”

John won’t meet her eyes, he’s had that very thought himself but he won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

“He’s a fellow Brit. We just talk about the idiosyncrasies of Americans. It’s just texting, we haven’t even spoken since the first time.”

He can see Max scrolling through their conversations and for the most part John knows he has nothing to worry about. There was nothing she could judge him for. All of their conversations had always been fairly innocent, if not a little flirty on occasion.

It’s nothing that Max could find fault with. John wasn’t stupid, it didn’t matter if his pulse sped up or his heart sometimes skipped a beat from one of James’s replies. He knew where James had found his number and he knew that it could have potentially disastrous results, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. If he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t want to stop.

He can see his phone vibrate in her hands and he’s itching to snatch it back. He knows it’s a text from James. They’d been in the middle of debating the latest moves made by the Manchester United coaching staff while James was out on the golf course with friends. But James’s texts had stopped promptly at seven thirty and the several texts John had sent afterward had gone unanswered. John had started to worry.

Max looked at the message, her eyebrows furrowing as she said, “Well it looks like that might be changing.”

John grabs the phone back and staring at him is James’s latest message.

**May I call you, please?**

John was out of the booth and heading toward the door with an “I’ll be right back,” before he could even tell his legs to move.

James picked up on the second ring and John could hear gasping. John’s first thought was that Max had been right. He was just about to hang up when James said his name. There was so much sorrow and pain in that single word that John felt almost crippled by it.

“James, what’s the matter?”

James told him a tale of love and loss so deeply heart wrenching that there was no possible way it could have been anything but absolutely true. John went around the corner to the alley, out of the way of foot traffic, and sat with his back against the wall listening to James relive the agony of losing the people he loved. John could feel his own eyes well with tears at the sadness in James’s tone and the tragedy of his loss.

Max wandered out roughly fifteen minutes later with his coat and a message to call her immediately. John nodded absently, all his attention focused on comforting James.

James told him it was the four year anniversary of their death and that for the last three years he’d had a therapist appointment on this very day, but this year, he’d decided he could forgo said appointment. He’d told John that he’d managed to keep himself busy during the day, but when he’d gotten home that evening and looked at the calendar he’d been hit broadside with the pain of their loss all over again.

He’d told John that there were any number of other people he could have called, but it was John who came to mind first. John refused to acknowledge the flutter in his chest at James’s words. John sat in the alley for more than hour comforting James until finally James’s breathing evened out and John could tell that he was asleep.

“Good night, James. Sleep well.”

After disconnecting he sent a text telling James to call him as soon as he awoke the next day.

James doesn’t call or text the next day and John is frantic with worry. He tells Max the whole story on the following Tuesday and while she’s sympathetic, she’s still incredibly wary.

“So he’s emotionally damaged and unavailable? I think I’d prefer if he were just your average run of the mill creep.”

“You’re heartless.” John tells her.

She tells him no, she’s just looking out for John because he is completely incapable of doing it for it himself. “You like to think you’re a cynic but you’re a God damn romantic and you have no self preservation instinct when it comes to men who make your heart beat faster.”

John waves her off but he knows she’s right.

James finally texts him on Wednesday after John had sent his own wall of texts to James. John had a sneaking suspicion that the reason James wasn’t texting was embarrassment so John had decided to bare his own soul.

He recounted the accident and his relationship with Kevin falling apart and the nightmares that sometimes still plagued him and the fact that he couldn’t even look at a fire truck without wanting to break down in tears.

In a last ditch effort he called James. When John got James’s voice mail he begged him to call him, or text, “Please, talk to me. Please let me know you’re alright.”

**I’m sorry** , was James’s only reply hours later. John knew when he was beat. He didn’t call or text James again.

After two weeks without any contact John debates deleting James’s number. Seeing James’s name in his phone every day only to no longer have contact with him brings an ache to his chest that he refuses to name. In the end, he leaves James’s name and number in his phone, ever the eternal optimist.

 

* * *

 

 

James can’t pinpoint why he’d called John instead of Claire or Jack or Anne or hell, even Hal. When he’d seen the calendar that evening and noticed the day a wave of sadness had hit him. Thankfully it wasn’t the all encompassing sadness that had opened him like a tin can previously. But he’d needed to talk to someone. The first person he’d thought of had been John and without second guessing himself he’d asked if he could call.

When he’d heard John’s voice in his ear the tears he’d been holding at bay had burst forth. In fits and starts he’d managed to tell the entire story to a backdrop of John saying he was sorry and that he wished he could do more to help.

John had never said that it would be alright. He hadn’t thrown empty platitudes at James the way so many had. He just listened, letting James know he was there. John let James unload his anguish without judgement. For the first time in years James had let himself be overwhelmed by the sadness and allowed another person to see him at his weakest.

The next morning, when he’d woken, he’d seen the message from John asking him to call or text and James had remembered his embarrassing display of emotion. James was mildly ashamed that he’d called a virtual stranger and unloaded the saddest tale of his life.

Later, when he told Anne what he’d done and how foolish he felt, Anne had told him to text John immediately. She told him that he was being an imbecile and that he needed all the friends, or whatever John may be, that he could get. James had reminded her once again, that his relationship with John was completely platonic.

“You’ve forgotten then that I know what you sound like when you’re lovesick?”

“I am not lovesick. He’s just a friend. More stranger than friend really.” James can practically see Anne rolling her eyes.

Anne had just hummed at him and told him once again to call or text John immediately. Which he ignored.

A day later John sent him a series of texts outlining the horrific accident that took John’s leg and the resulting fall out of his long term relationship. James understood what John was trying to do. A tale for a tale, one horror for another. But James was still far too embarrassed and far too unwilling to inflict his baggage on someone new to return John’s texts.

John called exactly once and James let it go to voicemail.

Perhaps if he’d been able to handle the anniversary without becoming a basket case, James would have continued to talk to John. He sends John a simple, **I’m sorry**.

James isn’t surprised that John doesn’t text back. Nor is he surprised that John never texts again. What does surprise him is the emptiness that John’s absence leaves behind. He hadn’t realized how much of his day was spent looking forward to John’s texts, or how much time he spent anticipating what John would say.

More than once, he’d picked up his phone to send a text John. The first time it was because TBS was replaying Sixteen Candles and he was going to ask if John was going to watch it. The second time it was because one of the guys on his crew had declared that Budweiser was a premium beer.

When James talks to Carter the following week and tells him the entire story Carter very carefully asks James how John makes him feel.

The words come without thought. Happy, whole, uncomplicated. Carter doesn’t say it in so many words but he heavily infers that James should take a very close look at his feelings for John and see what conclusion he comes to. James says he will, not intending to do so at all.

At least that’s his intention until Jack takes him out for drink the next evening.

“I notice you’re not on your phone as much lately.” Jacks conversationally.

James wonders briefly if Jack and Anne have been talking again. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it most likely won’t be the last. Six months ago Jack had taken a sudden trip to England only to come back a month and a half later with a new outlook on life. James didn’t ask and Jack didn’t tell, but he suspects that Jack spent most of that time with Anne in one capacity or another.

James has had three scotches and he’s feeling chatty. He tells Jack the entire story. This makes three people that James has bared his soul to now, and he’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever be able to keep anything a secret ever again.

Jacks listens thoughtfully, nodding here and there, asking the random question or two and when James is finished Jack simply asks, “Why haven’t you taken him out yet?”

James just stares at him as if he’s grown a serpent's head. “Taken him out for what exactly?”

Jack raises an eyebrow and gives him a considering look before answering.

“You know, I knew Thomas and Miranda for many, many years and they didn’t have a selfish bone in their bodies. Everything they had, they were willing to share if it could make someone’s life easier, if it could ease someone's burden, if it could make someone happy. What makes you think they’d want you to spend the rest of your life alone and mourning for them?”

James says nothing, just lowers his eyes.

Jack leans forward before continuing, “They loved you, James. Completely and wholly and without reservation. I remember the first time they told me about you, they were positively giddy. They loved each other very much, but it was more intellectually and emotionally than physically and then you came along and they found a partner in you. I watched them flourish even further. Their love for each other grew because of their love for you. Don’t turn their memory into pain and sadness alone, you deserve more than that. Their memory deserves more than that.”

That was all that Jack said on the subject but the words haunted James for the next several weeks.

***

He spends the time looking back over his conversations with John and he can’t deny the feelings that course through him. Excitement, warmth, happiness. As he reads back through the thread, it hits him like a bus. Despite the innocence of the messages, James had been flirting and John had flirted back.

James examines his emotions, thinks about how easy it had been for him to fall into this pattern with John. He didn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t regret it. He thinks long and hard about what Jack had said to him, about Thomas and Miranda and their relationship. He doesn’t believe for a second they would begrudge him some measure of happiness in their absence.

He doesn't exactly know what he feels for John, all he knows is that he feels something and he owes it to himself to explore it. He owes it to John to let him have the choice.

It takes him another week to work up the courage to call and when he does he’s not surprised that it goes to voicemail. He leaves a long message, afraid each second that he’ll be cut off before he can finish, but once he’s done, he feels as if the brick that had been weighing his stomach down for three weeks is finally gone.

 

* * *

 

 

John’s phone lights up and the caller ID identifies James’s number and John’s first instinct is to snatch the phone up and answer it but Max swipes across the screen sending it to voicemail before he can reach it. She gives him a pointed look and her eyes sweep down the long table they’re sitting at.

They’re out for Jeanine’s birthday. Jeanine was John’s first employee and she’d wormed her way into John’s good graces by being able to gentle the fussiest of customers. John had invited the whole shop to a small get together for pizza and cake. To take a phone call in the middle of the celebration would be rude and logically John agrees. Emotionally his ID is banging against the cage walls demanding to be let free.

When his phone dings alerting him to voicemail he reaches for it again only to have Max snatch it from the table and put in her back pocket.

She narrows her eyes at him, “I’ll give it back when we’re ready to go. You need be _here_ right now.”

John nods. He knows it’s true. He’s been truly mopey the last three weeks. His temper has been short and his sense of humor has been gone. He’s been forced to reevaluate the hold James had on his life and his mental state. He’d come to the conclusion that he’d become much more attached to James in three short months they’d been talking, than he had ever been to any of the men in his previous relationships. That thought alone had scared the absolute shit out of him.

It’s a revelation he’s not shared with anyone else. He’d been trying in vain to put James behind him only to fail. His hands are itching for his phone and he’s become distracted wondering if James is alright, imaging what the message he left could possibly say.

By the time their little get together is breaking up John is a nervous ball of energy. When everyone has left save for him and Max, she hands him his phone back. As she makes to leave, he grabs her hand and squeezes, his eyes pleading with her to stay. She sits back down as he puts his phone to his ear.

_I know that I have zero right to ask you to forgive me, what I did was inexcusable. I’m asking anyway. I...I miss you. I don’t know what this is, what we’re doing, but I know I don’t want to give it up. I know I don’t want to stop. I think you feel it you too. I want a second chance, if you’ll have me. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up again, but I promise not to shut you out. Please, John._

John’s heart is racing, eyes wide as he stares at Max. Max takes the phone and replays the message.

“Don’t delete it.” John begs as he watched her finger hover over the three button, instead she just thumbs the end button.

“You know I think this is an awful idea, but you’re going to do what your heart wants you to do and I can see by the look in your eyes that you want him and whatever it is that you’re doing with him. But I’m going to ask, as your friend, as someone who cares very much about you, please be careful. Meet him, sooner rather than later and make sure he’s not a toad.”

John can’t help the laugh. He has wondered more than once what James looks like. He’s assumed that James is fit, with his history in the Navy and the Coast Guard he knows that James should be in relatively good shape. John realizes with a start that he really doesn’t care.

His hands shake as he starts typing out a text.

**I got your message. I do feel it, and saying that means I can say that you hurt me. I also know you didn’t intend to. I need a few days. I’ll call.**

John debates showing it to Max before sending but decides to keep it to himself for now. The answer is almost immediate and it brings a new flush to John’s cheeks as a thousand butterflies burst in John’s stomach.

**I’ll wait for you, however long you need.**

He and Max leave the restaurant and John feels lighter than he has in weeks. Max hugs him tightly and tells him to keep his head on straight.

***

John spends two days doing nothing but thinking about the way James makes him feel. They’ve spoken on the phone all of twice and yet John knows he’d be able to pick James’s voice out of a crowd. John doesn’t fool himself into thinking that this is going to remain platonic. Not with that message and not with the way John feels, but after what James had shared with him, John wonders if he isn’t just setting himself up for heartache.

He takes the days to examine whether or not he’s patient enough, understanding enough, to only have part of someone. He makes himself face some hard truths about what he wants and what he expects.

John can’t deny that James makes him feel emotions that John isn’t used to. John has never longed for someone, not in the physical and not in the emotional. There are moments when he feels almost infantile with the lack of understanding of how someone could make you feel this way.

There were days when a single text from James would send him to dizzying heights of happiness, where his heart would race and his palms would sweat at the mere idea that James was thinking of him.

John finds himself standing in the shoes of some of the men who’d come through his life and he realizes just how hard of a spot it really is. If James can never commit to him will John be able to accept it? John knows it wouldn’t be fair to tell James one thing now only to change his mind later. Or maybe John is putting the horse before the cart. Maybe he should just take things one day at a time.

John tucks himself into bed that night with his headset. He thumbs over James’s contact and presses the dial button.

When James answers he’s breathless, “John.”

John has to swallow and clear his throat, “How are you?”

“Would it be too much if I said that I’m better now?”

John feels himself smile. “No I don’t think it would.”

The conversation is stilted for several more moments before James tells him that he’s decided to start giving sailing lessons.

They talk for two hours and only say good night when John starts to doze. The warm sated feeling in John’s stomach when he disconnects the call stays with him for a good long time.

 

* * *

 

 

**We should meet.**

The words stop James dead in his tracks. He realizes that meeting is the next logical step. They’ve been becoming closer in the two months since they’d admitted that something was happening between them and James can admit that he’s curious himself. He wonders if they’ll have the same chemistry in person.

They speak on the phone every day. Sometimes multiple times, but at the very least, always before they both turn in for the night.

Their conversations have been getting heavier, more intense and instead of shying away from the innuendo as they had in the past they’ve both dove in fully, holding little back. Several of their texts had bordered on sexual and James couldn’t deny the thrill it had sent through him.

The thought of meeting John in person is simply terrifying. Up until this point, their communication becoming something more had been an abstract idea. But he also knows that it’s the logical next step and he can’t think of a reason why they shouldn't meet.

James thinks yes, he’s ready for this, he wants this. He shoots back a reply, **When?**

They plan to meet the following Saturday at Antonio’s. It’s wedding season and it’s the only Saturday John has free for the next three months. James tries to put it out of his mind and go about his day to day life.

It’s harder than he anticipated. He finds himself daydreaming about what John looks like and whether or not they’ll mesh. Twice he’s accidentally hit his thumb with a hammer, a rookie mistake he hasn’t made since his first weeks with the program.

He’s circled the date on the calendar with a red sharpie. It’s not like he needs the reminder, but every time he sees it his heart stutters and his stomach flips over in a mixture of excitement and earth shattering fear.

The Thursday before they’re supposed to meet James is readying himself for bed, thinking about what he’s going to wear on Saturday. He wonders if he should call Jack for an opinion. He decides against it. He’s seen some of the suits Jack wears.

He’s not expecting a call this evening. John is out celebrating Billy’s birthday and he’d told James that he probably wouldn't be in until the early hours of the morning. James had told him it would be fine to call but John hadn’t committed to it. So he’s surprised when his phone rings just past midnight. He barely gets a greeting out before John is talking.

His words are slow and slightly slurred, his voice deeper than usual.

”I thought about you tonight. There was a guy, he tried to get me out on the dance floor. He wanted me to dance, but I only want to dance with you. But he wasn’t you, at least I don’t think he was you, was he?”

James laughs, “No, he wasn’t me.” James thinks about John letting someone else touch him and James’s hands curl into fists, but they’re not there yet and James has no claim on him. “John, you don’t have to…” James trails off not knowing what to say.

“I don’t want your permission, James. I don’t want you tell me I should let other people touch me. Do you really want that? Do you want another man's hands on me?” John sounds almost angry.

“No.” James doesn’t even hesitate, his voice is hard leaving no room for argument. There is no one on this planet that James wants touching John, certainly not some cretin at a bar who doesn’t understand how special John is.

“Full disclosure, you should know I’m drunk and that I’m a horny drunk, James.” There’s almost a purr in John’s voice, soft and seductive, and James feels heat coil in his stomach. He wonders if he’s hearing how John sounds when he’s turned on.

James can hear rustling over the line and he wonders where John is, what he’s doing and he tries very hard not to think about what John’s last statement could mean.

"There’s nothing wrong with that.” James tries to keep his voice light and fails miserably.

John hums softly before saying, “I miss being fucked.”

James feel a cold sweat break out along his spine and his breath catches before he asks, “Where are you?”

There’s more rustling over the line before John says, voice languid “I’m in bed. My own bed, all alone.”

If James didn’t know better he’d say John was pouting.

James clears his throat, “You should get some sleep, you’ve got a lot going on tomorrow.”

John’s breath hitches on a moan and then John says his name in a way that makes James’s stomach drop and his cock sit up and take notice. Another gasping breath through the line has James fully hard.

He needs to end this call and he needs to do it now before this gets out of hand.

“John, I think--”

He’s cut off by a moan and the sound of skin on skin. James now has no doubt that John is touching himself, touching his cock while talking to James. It hits him hard in the solar plexis. He wants to hear it, he wants to see it. He just _wants_.

“Fuck.”

“Yes, please. James.”

John’s breath is coming faster, his moans more frantic and James has no hope of ending this conversation unscathed. He slides down further in bed, lets his hand curve over the bulge in his sweatpants. James doesn’t know where it comes from but he starts to talk back.

“You sound so good, John. I’d love to be there, watching you. Is your cock wet? Are you leaking thinking about me?”

“Yes.” It’s a barely audible moan.

James details what he’d do to John. He tells him how he’d open him up with his mouth first, get his tongue in deep, get him soaking wet, before stretching him out on his fingers. He tells John that he’d put him on his stomach and fuck him slow and deep and hard until John didn’t know his own name, until he was so far inside that John would swear he could taste James’s cock.

He listens to John come. Hears him cry out, soft moans that make James’s own cock twitch in sympathy. James imagines what it would be like to be there, to see him, to feel him and he barely restrains his own moan.

John falls asleep almost immediately after which James disconnects the call. James finds it mostly endearing if not completely frustrating.

James is still hard. Without a second thought he pushes his pants down and shoves his shirt out of the way. It takes all of three strokes before he’s coming on his chest, John’s name on his lips, the sound of John’s high pitched cries echoing through James’s head.

The guilt and shame that slam into him almost immediately following has him running for the toilet. He’d just worked himself to an orgam to thoughts of someone else filling his head while in the very bed he’d shared with Thomas and Miranda.

He barely sleeps that night, his mind in turmoil. How can he move forward if he’s still so tied up in knots. How is it fair to John if James can’t give himself completely? What if he has this same reaction the first time he touches John? What if being with John makes him physically ill? John deserves so much more than James can offer him. He deserves someone who can touch him and love him without reservation.

John texts him the next day, one apology after another and James doesn’t have the heart to ignore him even though he knows he should. He continues to talk to John for the next two days, the texts are shorter and the phone call Friday night is brief but he tries to act as if nothing is wrong.

When Saturday rolls around James calls Jack over. Jack is mildly confused thinking that James has a date. James quickly tells him that no, that’s next weekend. He turns his phone off and slides it into a drawer. He then proceeds to get as drunk as humanly possible.

The next day, as his head pounds and his stomach threatens to turn itself inside out, James takes the calendar from wall and rips it in two before tossing it in the bin. He deletes all of John’s messages without reading them.

Even if he could come up with a good enough excuse for skipping out on John, James knows that it would only be a matter of time before the whole thing came crashing down in some other way. It’s better to end it now, before it can even really begin.

 

* * *

 

John waits until nine thirty before he calls Max. James was supposed to be here at eight. He spends the time before she gets there thinking over the last three days. He’d been so stupid. He realizes now that he should have trusted his gut on Friday when he’d spoken to James and James had seemed off.

John hadn’t actually meant to call James Thursday night. He had fully intended to go home and sleep it off. When he’d crawled into bed he’d still felt the phantom touch of someone else and he’d just wanted to erase it.

Calling James and then proceeding to get himself off wasn’t something he’d envisioned but James’s voice had been so warm and John couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how’d he have reacted if it had been James trying to get him to dance.

John won’t lie to himself and pretend it was the first time he’d gotten off thinking about James. But he thinks that his behavior must have bothered James.

He forces himself to stop thinking when Max slides into the booth opposite him. She takes his hand across the table as he swipes at his face.

“I should have known better. His texts the last few days have been….odd. I should have known he wasn’t planning on showing up.”

He doesn’t tell her what had transpired Thursday, too embarrassed by his behavior.

Max comes around to sit on his side of the booth and pulls him in. After a few seconds he slides his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts before stopping on James’s. He hands the phone to her.

“Delete it.”

Max hesitates, he just nods his head and watches as James’s information disappears. He allows himself to mourn for ten minutes and then he pays the bill and lets Max take him home. She gets him spectacularly drunk and then tucks him into bed.

The next several weeks John practically lives in the shop. He refuses help at every turn, preferring instead to build the designs for the next several events himself. He rarely sleeps, and when he does it’s fitful, nightmares the likes of which he hasn’t seen in years plaguing him almost every night. He wakes up more tired than when he went to bed.

Billy shows up on his doorstep one Friday with two bottles of wine and take out from McGruff’s. John drinks more than he eats and ends up spilling his guts about the phone sex. He hasn’t told anyone about that up to this point.

He tells Billy that he knows that’s what fucked it all up. John hadn’t been able to help himself. James had sounded sleepy and soft and John had just wanted him so much in that moment.

“Hey, he’s the asshole, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

John nods but he doesn’t believe it for a second. He hadn’t been able to keep his dick in his pants and wasn’t that always his problem. Not that it matters now. James’s is gone from his life.

John wakes up the next morning with his head hanging off the couch and a marching band practicing inside his skull. He looks at the clock and realizes he has exactly twenty two minutes before he has to be at The Hilton for his four pm wedding. He’s never drinking again.

Luckily for John he employs the most organized, trustworthy people he’s ever met. By the time he shows up, the van is already there and mostly unloaded. Max and Jeanine are already setting up.

“Billy called me last night, said you were going to be shit this morning.” Max smiles at him before giving him a tight hug.

“I should have snatched Billy up when I had the chance.”

“Don’t let Charles hear you say that.”

John just smiles. It’s way too late for that. Forty seven days from today, John will stand up beside Billy as he marries Charles.

John had been offended when Billy had first told John that he wasn’t getting their wedding business, at least until Billy told him it was because he wanted John beside him instead. John hadn’t any choice but to relent. That didn’t mean however that he didn’t go along to every floral appointment Billy and Charles had. There were standards that needed to be met after all.

With Max and Jeanine’s help the wedding goes off without a hitch. The arbor that John had painstakingly crafted over the last week had held and he’d managed to book several jobs for later in the year.

***

John spends the next few weeks floating between one project or another. Every time his phone vibrates his heart flutters a little, only to be let down. He doesn't know why he still expected to hear from James. He doesn’t know why he even wants to. His sadness had to turned to anger quickly enough. He’d finally admitted to himself that he’d done nothing wrong, that this was something that was James’s problem and nothing John would have said after the fact would have changed the outcome.

John concentrates on keeping himself busy. He goes out with Max, and spends time with Billy and Charles while they fight over seating arrangements. It’s nights like this, as John watches Billy and Charles bicker until one of them is giving the other the cold shoulder, that John thinks maybe it’s better that things didn’t work out with James.

He’s alone in the shop late on a Friday putting the finishing touches on the bridesmaids bouquets for a wedding tomorrow, when he hears the bells over the door chime. He realizes he flipped the closed signed but forgot to lock the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed.” He calls out without turning around.

“That’s a shame. I’d like to order three dozen lilies because I have a long overdue apology to make.”

It takes everything John has not to drop the bouquet in his hands as he turns around. He didn’t think he’d ever hear the sound of that voice again.

 

* * *

 

 

When Claire shows up for a surprise visit, James has been drunk for three days. The anniversary of his first date with Thomas and Miranda had started his spiral into drunk and disorderly. Combined with the shame he still felt over what had happened with John and then his subsequent treatment of John, James had set his sights on the bottom of a bottle, or six as the case may be, and he hasn’t come up for air since.

Claire finds him in the study in a set of clothes he hasn’t bothered to change since his binge started. She takes one look at him and removes every bottle of alcohol she can find. She then proceeds to force him to sober up with sleep and enough water to fill the swimming pool out back. By the time James can recite what day it is, James feels even more shame.

Over coffee and dry toast, Claire asks, “Who’s John?”

James’s head shoots up, eyes wary, “No one.”

“You called for him several times in your sleep. Would you like to try that answer again?” The looks that she gives him is friendly and open.

James tells her the whole story from start to finish. He leaves nothing out and he can feel his face color when he gets to the end.

She chews slowly and takes several sips of her coffee before she says, “Did you know I almost forbade Miranda from marrying Thomas? I was absolutely against it.”

James can feel his eyebrows climb up his forehead. Claire had loved Thomas like a son, it had been obvious to anyone with eyes, and James had never imagined that it had ever been any other way.

“I’m surprised they never told you, but then I imagine that by then it was just that much water under the bridge.”

As Claire starts to retell the story she bustles around the kitchen cleaning their dishes.

“Our families had run in the same circles for years and almost everyone knew of Thomas. They knew of his father, and how...well Alfred had always been rather puritanical, and Thomas could never please him. Thomas rebelled in ways that would purposely embarrass his father on a grand scale. He was caught with women, and then when that didn’t phase Alfred, he turned to men. Thomas made no secret of the fact that he preferred men.” Claire leans back against the counter and dries her hands on a towel, a small fond smile gracing her face.

“When Miranda brought him home and said they were dating. I was concerned. Not because Thomas had slept with men, but because I didn't think he could make her happy and I thought he was dating her as just one more way to thumb his nose at his father. You see Alfred had his sights set on my hand some years before that, but he was much to stuffy for me and I chose Jeffrey instead.”

He watches Clair smile in memory of her husband. James hadn’t known him long but the very deep love they’d shared had been more than obvious.

“I allowed her to date him. I say allowed as if I had any say whatsoever. Miranda was headstrong. From the time she was an infant, Miranda marched to her own drum. She was beautiful and smart and as loyal as a person could be. My daughter was everything I could have wanted and more, I was always so proud of her.” Claire pauses as she blinks tears from her eyes. “She’d met Thomas at a party when she was home from college. They’d become friends first and after they had both graduated, they had met again. They dated for two years and one day she came home and said they were getting married.”

Claire sets the towel on the counter and motions to the back patio. After they’re both seated she continues.

“It was the only time I’d ever seriously considered forbidding her to do something. Jeffrey talked me out of it. And then I saw them together at a party, in their element. The two of them together were a force. The both had their minds set on humanitarian efforts and they were brilliant at collecting donors. They could work a room better than the best politician. Thomas would set them up and Miranda would knock them down. They were the very essence of a good team. No one was ever able to say no to them.”

James was more than aware of how good a team Miranda and Thomas were. It was how they’d captured him.

“But more than that, I saw how Thomas treated her. Thomas showed her the kind of respect you can only gain for someone through a deep understanding of who they are at their very core. They were in love and while it might not have been the traditional love I had hoped for her, she was happy, and Thomas was happy, he’d never strayed from her once, which is something that couldn’t be said about his previous relationships.”

Claire pauses and gives him a considering look. James meets her head on. He’s prepared for whatever she wants to tell him next.

"You weren’t the first for them, James. And I don’t say that to hurt you. But you were the last and the most important.”

James looks away. While Thomas and Miranda had made a few random comments during their relationship that hinted James wasn’t the first, he had never given it much thought especially not after they’d become a unit.

“They didn’t know I knew about the others. There weren’t many, it wasn’t as if they brought home a new man every weekend. I always thought that they were looking for something. Thomas and Miranda had a strong marriage, they were very much the ideal couple, but I do think that sometimes they felt as if something was missing. It was almost like they needed a conduit. Miranda once told me after a few too many glasses of wine that they weren’t sexually compatible and that you were the link that brought that aspect to life for them. When I met you, I realized that the something they had been looking for had been found. Happiness is fleeting, James. You have to grab it with both hands whenever it comes around. It was a lesson I learned from them.”

James can feel Claire’s eye on the side of his face and he turns to her slowly.

"I want you to know that I will not now, nor would I ever begrudge you the chance to find happiness again and I hope you know that my daughter would want you to grab it and hold on as tightly as possible. If you have that opportunity, James, take it and don’t look back.”

Claire holds his eyes for several long minutes before she gets up and presses a kiss to his head the same way his own mother had always done. He sits on the patio for a long time; memories of Thomas and Miranda filling his mind. It’s mid afternoon by the time he returns to the house. Claire tells him that he needs to take her shopping. They spend three days together shopping, eating and then visiting the mausoleum where Thomas and Miranda rest, before Claire gets back on a plane headed for San Diego.

***

It takes James another week before he decides to find John. He doesn’t bother trying to call or text, he knows they won’t be returned and he doesn’t blame John one bit. He knows the only option left to him now is to talk to him in person and the best way to do is to find his shop.

It doesn’t take more than a few hours to locate him. James knows that John’s had several articles published with rave reviews of his work in the Miami Herald. Internet archives are the greatest invention since sliced bread. A simple google search returns the address on Bonham Street. It takes him three days to work up the courage and on a mundane Friday night James decides to take his chance.

John’s store front is floor to ceiling glass. The front windows showcase several large lacquered displays and a dozen or so smaller bouquet samples. James can’t help but be impressed by the intricate way the flowers are put together, each one similar yet completely different and conveying a different feeling. James isn’t surprised at how successful the shop is based on these examples.

He sees that the sign on the door is flipped to closed, but he tries the door anyway. He hears the tinkle of a bell as it pushes open. He can see straight to the counter where John is standing with his back to the door as he calls out that they’re closed.

The first thing James notices are the curls that fall just past John’s shoulders, the second is the way John’s t-shirt hugs his back and shoulders. James can see the muscles underneath the thin jersey material move as John’s arms work the arrangement in his hands. John is fit as hell and the shallow part of James’s psyche does a little fist pump.

“That’s a shame. I’d like to order three dozen lilies because I have a long overdue apology to make.”

When John spins around James is struck dumb at the exquisite face staring back at him. John has deep blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He cuts an incredibly striking figure.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” John immediately starts to backpedal. “I didn’t mean that, I mean I do, it’s just not what I planned on saying. Shit.”

James can feel his mouth lifting in a smile. “It’s nothing less than I was thinking about you, so we’re even.”

They stare at one another for several long seconds before they both begin to speak at the same time.

“How did you—”  
“I wanted to—”

John motions for him to start and James takes a deep breath.

“I came to apologize.” He walks closer until the only thing between them is the two and half feet of counter space covered in various flowers. “I fucked up, again. I was scared and ashamed. It’s no excuse for what I did. I...well I don’t deserve it, but I’d like to try again.”

John doesn’t move a muscle the entire time James is speaking and James’s eyes never leave John. He desperately wants this chance but he also understands if it’s beyond what John can give.

John lays the bouquet on the counter. “I don’t know. I want to because I can still feel this pull toward you, even now, especially now with you here, but you hurt me.”

James takes a step around the counter until they’re on the same side just a few inches between them.

“I know and all I can do is tell you that I’m sorry, and promise to try harder.”

James runs his knuckle down the back of John’s hand and even though John takes a step back James can still see the shiver that runs through him.

"What would another chance entail?” John’s voice is hesitant but curious.

“Dating. Dinner? Lunch? Coffee? Tea? Theater? Whatever strikes your fancy.” James curls his fingers in to keep from reaching for John again.

“Fridays and Saturdays are pretty busy for me.”

The tension he’d been holding in his shoulders starts to unfurl at John’s almost acquiescence. “There are five other days in the week and we both have to eat on all of them.”

“So, if I were to say yes, when would this dating begin.” John props his hip on the counter and James’s eyes are momentarily drawn to the motion. He can’t help but notice how tiny John’s waist is.

“As soon as possible. Now even, if that’s what you wanted.”

John’s eyes search his face. “I’m off Tuesday.”

James feels himself smile. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Text me your address.”

John looks away and swallows, "You’ll have to text me first. I deleted your contact information.”

James can’t stop the little pang in his chest, but he understands. “Fair enough.”

He takes a step closer to John, and then another until there’s barely any space between them. John’s eyes are wide as he looks up at James. There isn’t a big height difference, but at this close range it’s enough that John has to tilt his head back just slightly.

James reaches for him and John starts but doesn’t back away. James brushes his thumb along John’s cheekbone, fingers sliding into John’s hair to cradle the back of his head. James leans close and John looks like a deer in the headlights but James by passes John’s lips and puts his mouth near John’s ear.

“You’re beautiful,” James whispers before pressing a chaste kiss to John’s temple.

James backs off but not before hearing the stuttering inhale of breath John took.

“I’ll see you Tuesday.” James says as he backs out of the shop.

John just nods, eyes still wide.

James is a block away when he has to lean against the wall to catch his breath. The adrenaline is leaving him in a rush making his whole body shake. He takes his phone out and texts John asking for his address. John makes him sweat by waiting a full twenty four hours before texting back. James figures it’s nothing less than he deserves.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is retired Navy and Coast Guard. John is a retired Firefighter. They can’t fix each other, they know that. There’s no fixing what they’ve been through. There’s only comfort and understanding and the willingness to be there, the willingness to see a future, and to let yourself feel again. Or better known as my Modern Bathroom Wall AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the explicit bits come in.

It’s three minutes past eight when James dials John’s number.

“I’m coming. I swear to you I’m on my way right now. There was an accident, a car caught fire and they shut both sides of the highway down. I’m sorry.” James’s voice is harried as he rushes to get all the words out.

James can hear the smile in John’s voice when he answers. “I know James, it’s on the news, and I still have a police scanner running most of the time.”

“Thank Christ. I’m not far now and the reservations aren’t until eight thirty so we still have plenty of time.” James weaves in and out of traffic mentally cursing slow drivers in the wrong lane.

“Drive safely, I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Wait. We’ll stay on the phone until you open the door.”

“I forgave you. I trust that you’re coming.” John is almost full on laughing at him now.

Relief sweeps through him. As soon as he’d realized he wasn’t going to be on time he’d almost panicked thinking John would assume he’d been stood up again. He’d been too frantic for several minutes to remember he could actually call John to tell him what was happening. “I’m not far, just down the block.”

“I’m hanging up now, James. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” The line goes dead and James pushes just that much harder on the accelerator.

When John answers the door James has to bite his tongue. John’s wearing skin tight black jeans that hug his thighs and a navy blue cotton button down that make John’s eye look fathomless. His biceps strain the fabric and it fits snug over a flat abdomen that James would bet money is as hard as the floor they’re standing on. His hair is loose, falling in waves around his shoulders, and it looks so incredibly soft that James has to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch it.

John turns to walk further into his apartment and James has to close his eyes for a few seconds. The jeans are stretched tight across what James thinks is probably the most perfectly rounded ass he’s ever seen. He can’t decide if John is a blessing or a curse.

Later at the restaurant, as they’re looking over the menu, James is startled by a behemoth clapping John on the shoulder. If this is one of John’s ex’s, James is going to take his leave now. There’s little chance he’s competing with that.

The blond man is very carefully looking back and forth between James and John without saying a word. The three of them just keep staring at each other until yet another man comes over and places his hand on the small of the back of the blond.

“Billy, what the fuck are you—oh.” The newly joined man trails off as he gets a look at John. And then his gaze falls to James.

John looks like he’s willing the ground to open up and swallow him and suddenly the name Billy registers with James. James stands up and holds out his hand. “James Flint.”

He watches the eyebrows on the blond, Billy, climb up his forehead before he narrows his gaze at John. Billy crosses his arms across his chest completely ignoring James’s outstretched hand and says, “James? James as in the asshole who stood you up, James?” His voice is ice cold.

James watches John’s face color before he hisses out, “Billy.”

Before John can get anything else out, James puts his hand down. “One in the same. There’s no excuse for what I did, but John was kind enough to forgive me. I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice.”

James watches a smile take over John’s face as he ducks his head. Billy doesn’t say anything, clearly not expecting James to admit to his bad behavior, or, at the very least, expecting James to try and excuse said bad behavior.

Billy’s companion holds out his hand to James, “Charles Vane. It’s been great meeting you, we’re going now.” James watches Charles tug Billy to the exit.

“I’m sorry.” John’s face is still slightly flushed and he’s biting the corner of his lip. James thinks it's adorable.

“You don’t need to apologize because your friends care for you. I’d have reacted the same way if I were in his position. He’ll come around, I’ll make sure of it.” James intends to do whatever it takes to win Billy over.

Dinner is a three hour affair, much to their server’s displeasure. James will make sure to leave a tip that more than makes up for it. They finish an entire bottle of wine and split dessert; John’s choice—the triple layer chocolate cake. James briefly wonders exactly who he’s pissed off and what karma he’s paying for that he has to sit across the table from arguably one of the most attractive men he has ever seen and watch him lick a fork.

James can’t take his eyes off of John’s mouth for several long seconds and when he looks back up John has raised an eyebrow at him.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't stare.” James makes his best effort to keep his eyes strictly above John’s nose.

John just twirls his fork and says quietly, “I like it.”

John props his arm over the back of his chair. It stretches his shirt over John's very visible and well defined pecs as his lips close around another fork full of cake. His eyes never leave James’s and James knows he isn't imaging the heat staring back at him. It takes everything he has not to groan out load.

James is a huge fan of foreplay. He doesn't kid himself into thinking they'll actually end up in bed together tonight, James isn't sure he's ready for that, but he loves the building tension of mutual attraction. He loves the idea of wanting and being wanted, the feeling of low thrumming arousal sliding through his veins, the solid press of his half hard cock against his jeans.

James loves the tease almost as much as he loves the payoff and if the way John’s tongue slides along the fork in his hand is any indication, the pay off, when it comes, is going to be phenomenal.

John finishes the cake and James pays the check. Before John can say a word James beats him to it.

“I asked, so I pay. You want to pay next time, have at it.”

John doesn’t argue just concedes with a tilt of his head.

Not ready to call it a night yet, they wander down the street, going in and out of the shops that are still open. Conversation flows freely between them. There’s no awkwardness, no hesitation, and when James links his fingers with John’s as they walk back to James’s car, they’re both smiling.

When they get to John’s building, James walks him to the door of his apartment. They stand in the doorway, mere inches between them, a thread of tension running through them both as James’s eyes trace all over John’s face while his fingers play with John’s.

“So, when are you free next?” James asks quietly.

“October.” John jokes.

“I can’t wait that long to see you again.” James’s voice is low and serious. He knows that John was making light of the situation but as he stands here, surrounded by the scent of John, James knows that even as a joke he can’t contemplate waiting that long. James hears John’s sharp intake of breath as James’s right hand comes up to cup John’s cheek. He slides his fingers into the thick of John’s hair. James lowers his head and John turns his face away slightly.

James slides his cheek against John’s, “I want to kiss you so badly.” James feels the way John shivers against him as James’s breath ghosts across John’s ear. He wants so much more than a kiss. But he also knows neither of them are ready for that. He understands John’s hesitance, but he aches nonetheless.

“I don’t kiss on a first date, and you have to earn it.” James knows that John means in light of James’s erratic behavior of the past. He understands that John needs to be sure before he gives anything of himself away.

James puts his forehead against John’s and they just breath together, eyes closed, James’s hands cradling John’s head, fingers sunk deep into John’s curls. John’s hands are clenched tight on James’s hips and James can feel John’s short nails digging in slightly. James can feel the electricity arcing between them. He can practically taste the cake John had for dessert.

There’s roughly three inches between them and James wants to press himself against John just to feel the heat of John’s body. He wants to completely surround himself in the heat and smell of John. His reaction to John is so visceral that he can’t believe it had taken him so long to let himself feel it.

Once he’d finally let go, allowed himself to be open to what he could have with John, the hunger he felt for John was voracious. Those first few days after finally meeting John in person had seen James getting himself off several times a day to thoughts of John’s mouth, his eyes, his hair, the hard body he knows is underneath John’s clothes. He hadn’t been able to stop. Just the sound of John’s voice on the phone had him ready to go.

And now, even though he knows that they aren’t anywhere near the point where they could explore those feelings, he can barely contain how badly he _wants_ John.

“I want to see you again, soon. Please.” James’s voice has gone several octaves deeper than normal.

He watches John’s eyes fall closed briefly as he licks his lips. Their mouths are close enough that John’s tongue had almost touched James’s bottom lip. James feels John’s breath on his mouth and every instinct he has is calling for him to take. Instead he takes one step back, removes himself from temptation. Heat settles low in his belly as he feels sweat break out on the back of his neck just below his hairline.

“I should go.” James’s voice sounds hoarse to his own ears.

John nods, eyes dark and wide as they flick between James’s mouth and eyes. James can feel his blood simmering just below his skin like hot lava. James takes him in, eyes moving slowly from the top of his head to the toes of his boots. John’s whole body is tense, breath shallow, his hands are pressed flat against his apartment door, fingers curled in slightly as if he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out for James the same way James is holding himself back.

James can’t help himself as he reaches out and presses two fingers against the pulse point in John’s neck. John’s heart is racing, the skin under his fingers is warm and soft. James has to go, he has go right now.

Instead, he lets his fingers slide slowly down John’s neck and John shivers again, eyes falling closed as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sharp little white teeth sinking in. James wants those teeth on his own skin, wants to feel the sting of them pressing into his neck, his chest, anywhere.

James closes the gap again, mouth hovering mere inches over John’s. He feels John’s breath puffing out against his lips. James pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth. It would take so little, just a single shift of his head and he could run his tongue over John’s full bottom lip, he could taste John with so little effort. James rips himself away once more and plasters his back into the opposite wall.

It’s not that James would ever force the issue, it’s just that he wants, and John wants, and if he kissed him now, if they got that close, neither of them would be able to stop. He sees the way John’s looking at him, the intensity in John’s eyes has James’s knees threatening to buckle. He feels the tension in his own body mirrored in John’s as they stare at each other across the hall. They’d both give in and they’d both regret it.

“Go inside, John.” James is breathing hard, his heart slamming against his rib cage. His cock is hard and aching in his pants. James likes to think he has more control than this but it’s been years since he’s been with anyone, and he’s only started touching himself within the last six months. Despite the marathon jerk off sessions of the last four days, he’s so fucking desperate he can barely see straight.

His desire for John, wanting to taste him, wanting to touch him, is overwhelming, and he’s determined not to fuck this up, not to move faster than John wants or than either one of them can handle.

John just nods jerkily and digs in his pocket for his keys. James’s eyes stray down and the slight bulge in John’s jeans has James adjusting his own cock. When John catches him, his eyes zero in on James’s trapped cock and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. James barely contains the moan that tries to bubble out of him.

“Fuck, don’t do that.” James’s voice is thin and desperate.

John jerks his eyes back up and his pupils are blown, eyes glassy. He turns and unlocks his door and then steps inside, shutting it firmly behind him.

James slumps against the wall, tension leaving him in a rush. His hands shake as he runs them over his face and through his hair. Once he gets to his car he has to sit for several minutes before he’s in any condition to drive home.

He gets a text before he’s even out the parking lot.

**I should probably say I’m sorry for not going in sooner. I’m not sorry at all. The fact that I can’t say this to your face yet is a good indication that we made the right choice, but I want you, and watching you want me turned me on so much. I like seeing you hard for me.**

James bangs his head on the steering wheel. So much for losing his hard on.

***

On Wednesday, after a disgruntled call from John telling him he has to cancel their lunch date, James turns his current job site over to his foreman and goes to The Chophouse to pick up lunch for John and his entire staff.

When he walks in the door John’s brows furrow until he sees the bags James is holding. John’s lips turn up in a huge smile and James is momentarily blinded by how beautiful John really is. He almost misses a step but manages to recover before embarrassing himself.

James knows that the change order John is working through his lunch for is more stressful for Jonn than normal. John won’t be the one handling this wedding on Saturday as he’ll have one of his own to attend. John is worried that now, with this change, things won’t go off without a hitch as usual.

“I brought lunch to you. You have to eat, your staff has to eat.” James sets the bags down on a small side table, the only open space he can find, and starts taking dishes out along with plastic utensils and disposable plates and napkins. He’s brought pasta, steak tips, potatoes, and salad.

John watches as his employees fill plates and head back to work.

“What can I do to help?” James gestures to the displays and bouquets littering the room.

“Don’t you have a job site to run?” John inquires.

“That’s why I have a foreman. Now show me.”

John picks up a white peony and motions toward the arrangements scattered all over. “We have pull every one of these,” John holds the flower out to James, “Out of every one of those.” John sweeps his arm around the room.

James looks around eyes wide, “There must be a hundred.”

“One hundred and seventeen to be exact. My bride found out this morning that her new mother-in-law hate peonies. So now, I have to replace them all with white lilies, which I had to go order from another florist because my vendor didn’t have enough.” John’s voice is weary.

James picks up the nearest bouquet, “Show me how to get them out without doing any damage?”

“You’re making it very hard for me to stick to my no kissing rule.”

James pulls him in with a hand on his hip until they’re almost touching. The thumb on his other hand traces John’s lips. “I’m trying to earn it.”

John touches the tip of his tongue to the pad of James’s thumb before pulling away and saying, “You’re succeeding.”

John then shows him how to very carefully remove the several peonies from each bouquet and arrangement. Later that evening he walks John to his car and sneaks a kiss to John’s temple. John just smiles at him.

***

Thursday, James sends a delivery boy with a six pack and John’s favorite pizza to his door shortly after he arrives home. James’s long standing date with Jack keeps him from delivering them personally.

James knew John had been at the shop since five am and had worked through lunch. Now, at eight pm, John was exhausted if his texts were anything to go by. James had offered to cancel on Jack but John had told him not. He’d said he’d be bad company as he was cranky and worn out.

The string of emojis he gets after the delivery has been made makes James light up like a scepter.

“It’s going well then?” Jack asks.

“It’s going very well.” James can feel the smile that cracks his face.

“I’m happy for you, James. You seem lighter and brighter.”

James absently rubs over his ring finger where the platinum band from Thomas and Miranda used to reside. “It wasn’t easy but I think I’ve finally let go of the guilt.”

Jack just nods. James only has a few drinks, barely enough to get a buzz. Six months ago he’d have tied one on and Jack would have had to carry his mostly unconscious form home. Now he wants to be lucid for his late night call with John. James is just turning down the comforter on his bed when John calls.

His voice is exhausted when James asks how it went today. “The lily delivery was late. It was supposed to be there first thing in the morning and it didn’t arrive until noon.”

“Did you get them all finished?”

“We did and despite everyone telling me different I feel like they don’t look as good as they did with peonies.” John sounds defeated.

“I don’t believe that. I’ve seen the work you do, John. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, I can’t even imagine how you come up with those ideas. They’re perfect.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” John’s voice is soft and seductive and James feels himself flush all over. Before he can answer John clears his throat. “So, you know Billy’s wedding is Saturday,” James just hums waiting for John to finish. “Would you be interested in being my date?”

“There is nothing I’d like more.”

They spend a few more minutes discussing their day until James hears John’s voice go slurred with sleep before they say goodnight. James slides into sleep with a grin.

***

James shows up at the hotel on Saturday five minutes before John had instructed him. He asks the girl manning the guest book if she could point out Max. John had told him on the phone that he was going to have James sit with Max since John is part of the wedding party. John had texted him earlier and told him that Billy was a basket case and that if he got a chance he’d come see James before the ceremony but he couldn’t make any promises.

When James meets Max for the first time she doesn’t shake his hand. She gives him a once over and just says, “Follow me.” She points out where they’re sitting and then tells him she has more socializing to do. James isn’t surprised that she’s not his biggest fan. He’s well aware of the place Max holds in John’s life and the stories John must have told her. Just like with Billy, all James can do it hope that their opinions will change the more they get to know him.

James takes a seat and looks through the wedding program. There are pictures of both Billy and Charles in uniform and James has to admit they make an impressive couple. One of the pictures on the last page has Billy, Charles, and John, along with a dozen other men, all in uniform. James has to try not to groan out loud at how good John looks. He suddenly has very real insight into how Thomas and Miranda must have felt when they saw him in uniform.

He’s still staring at the picture when John’s voice greets him. “I tried to get them to leave that picture out, but they wouldn’t budge.”

James’s head snaps up to look at John standing at the end of the row just two seats down. He feels like he’s been punched. John is wearing a formal tuxedo. Black and red plaid bow tie and matching vest. The jacket fits like a second skin emphasizing his narrow waist and strong shoulders.

“I hope you don’t expect me to keep my hands to myself while you walk around looking like that.” James’s eyes rake down and then back up to meet John’s.

The smile John gives him is dirty and full of promise. “You will have to dance with me at least once.” James stands up to move closer, “I’ll dance with you every second for the rest of the night if you want me to. You look stunning by the way.” James slides his finger under one of the lapels and runs it all the way down John’s chest. “Almost as stunning as you look in a uniform.”

John clears his throat and James takes pride in the slight coloring of John’s checks. “I have to get back, keep Billy from climbing out the window. I just wanted to say hello.” He turns to go and James’s eyes drop to admire John’s ass in dress slacks. When John turns back, James doesn’t even try to pretend like he wasn’t looking.

“By the way, you’ve earned it.” James goes to reach for him but John moves away further down the aisle with a wink.

By the time Max comes back and takes her seat next to him, the wedding party have arranged themselves under the small arbor at the front of the room. Everyone quiets as doors on opposite sides of the room open. Charles enters from the left and Billy enters from the right to meet in the middle of the ten groomsmen. James tries to watch the actual wedding but his eyes keep straying to John.

Their eyes meet more than once and at one point Max elbows him and cuts her eyes to Billy and Charles. James keeps his eyes off of John for the rest of the ceremony.

The ceremony is brief. They’ve written their own vows, and while they aren’t overly sappy, the very real love between them is plainly obvious. At the end Billy bends Charles nearly in half and kisses him to a cacophony of whistles and shouts from the room. Afterward the entire wedding party piles into a limo. John had told him earlier that they’ll be off to the fire house to take pictures before coming back for the reception.

James sits at a table consisting of the plus ones of those in the wedding party and Max. Max stares at him for several seconds before saying. “It’s really hard not to like you when you look at John the way you do.”

“I’m...sorry?” James doesn’t know if he should be contrite or not.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t hurt him again.” Max stares at him hard for several seconds before going to the bar.

He gets a text from John telling him they’re almost back to the hotel. Once they’re all back the reception goes into full swing. There’s food and cake, a toast by John, and then the dancing starts.

When the first dance starts, John manages to make his way to James.

“Are they really going to dance to this song?” James asks as the opening strains of Chicago’s _You’re the Inspiration_ starts.

“They’re cheesy, what can I say. You do realize that you’re going to have to dance with me during this song too, correct?” James just gives him a look. Halfway through the song, as the rest of the wedding party makes it to the dance floor, John drags James out behind him.

They do little more than sway, bodies almost touching, eyes catching and holding as James strokes his thumb over John’s cheekbone. “You really do look amazing.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself.” John says as his eyes skim down James’s body.

It makes James flash hot all over. James wants to kiss him. It’s almost overwhelming how desperate he is for it now that he knows John will let him, but he also doesn’t want their first kiss to be in a room full of people at someone else’s wedding. He wants it to belong to them alone, so he settles for another small kiss at John’s temple when the dance is over.

John spends the rest of the night introducing James around. Billy is still rather leery of him, but Charles holds no such grudge and spends a long time talking to James about the Coast Guard. John flits off to another group of people and James’s can barely takes his eyes off him.

John took his jacket off an hour ago, and loosened the bow tie shortly thereafter. Three of his shirt buttons are undone giving James a peek at John’s perfectly tanned chest. John’s cheeks are flushed with alcohol and the heat of the room.

Every once in awhile John will lift his hair off of his neck to cool off and James goes weak with the need to press kisses all along John’s hairline. James is barely able to maintain polite conversation. All he can picture is pushing John into the coat room and unbuttoning the rest of John’s shirt to suck marks all over him. Or maybe the bathroom, or shit, they’re in a hotel he could just get them a room.

“You’re pretty into him.”

Billy’s voice startles him out of his thoughts. He smiles as he watches John laughing across the room. “I am.”

“I should probably apologize for the restaurant.” Billy actually sounds apologetic and he wonders how much of that is Charles’s influence. Charles had told him earlier that Billy and Max would come around. He’d said that they were rather protective of John but that they saw and understood how happy he made John. Charles had said to give them a little time.

“No need. I’d have reacted similarly if it were my friend in John’s position and I were you.”

Billy claps him on the shoulder and goes off to find his husband just as John makes his way back over.

“I’m a wee bit tipsy.” John’s words are slow and his eyes are glazed.

“I see.” James is rather endeared.

John steps into his space, his hand sliding over James’s hip to press at the small of James’s back. He looks up at James from under his lashes and wets his lips. James feels his knees give a little. John starts to go up on his toes and James stops him.

“I don’t want it to be here.” He pulls John close so that he’s speaking directly into John’s ear. “I don’t want an audience for our first kiss. I want you and me and nothing else.”

When James pulls away John’s eyes are hot, “Then you need to take me home because I don’t want to wait anymore.”

They leave with hurried goodbyes, Billy’s knowing smirk following them all the way to the door.

When they get to John’s apartment, James’s nerves take over. He’s shuffling back and forth in front of John until finally John puts a hand on his chest to still him.

“We don’t have to.” John’s voice holds a kind of quiet understanding.

“I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to.” James says quickly.

James presses closer and stops just shy of connecting their lips. John tilts his head just a fraction of an inch, his bottom lip barely brushing James’s and that’s all it takes. James seals his mouth over John’s. James’s stomach drops the exact same way it had during his first trip up in a jet. The first kiss is over quickly. John pulls back to look up at him, his eyes are dark, lips slightly parted, and just barely damp. John runs his tongue over his top lip. James hears himself make a strangled noise before he hauls John in by the back of his neck.

He takes John’s mouth in a long, heated kiss that leaves them both breathless. John ends up pressed against his front door with James pressed against the front of him. The hair on the back of James’s neck is standing up and he can feel fine tremors running through John’s body. Breaking apart to breathe, they stare at each other from an inch away. They’re not able to focus on each others eyes but it's obvious they both feel it.

This connection that’s tied them together for so many months is strengthening, bringing them closer. James imagines this is what being hit by lightning feels like. There’s a buzz under his skin and he feels hot all over. They don’t say a word they just fall into another kiss, tongues lightly meeting and stroking.

John gasps as he arches into James’s body when James sucks his top lip, teeth scraping before releasing it. James’s hands slide around John’s waist. He gets one hand up under John’s untucked shirt. John feels so good under his hands. Hard muscle under baby soft skin. John shivers as James’s lips trail across his cheek, down to his jaw. James nips at the stubble on John’s chin, soft little bites that have John tipping his head back for more.

He licks down John’s neck and John moans filthy and low. James feels goosebumps form on the skin under his fingers. John’s hands clutch his shoulders, fingers squeezing hard. James’s pulse kicks up, he feels himself getting hard.

James had known, God, he had known it was going to be like this. Hot and desperate and so fucking good. He feels his own body shudder as the lust slides through him making him lightheaded. John feels so good, he tastes good, he smells good, and James wants to take, take, take; right now, right in this hallway if John would let him. He’d lift John against the door and slide their bodies together until there was nothing between them except spit and sweat and skin.

James tilts John’s head and goes back to John’s mouth, runs his tongue the length of John’s palate, touches his teeth before sucking on John’s bottom lip. John has gone all but limp against him, hands bunching the material of James’s jacket where he’s holding onto James’s shoulders. James has one hand pressed low on John’s back, fingertips resting on the swell of John’s ass. James curls his fingers, pulls John into his body.

They spend fifteen minutes pressed up against John’s apartment door before James finally starts to untangle his hand from John’s hair. He doesn't remember how it got there, he just knows that John’s curls are soft as they twist around the tips of fingers, like little strands of silk. As he pulls his fingers free, it’s fascinating for him to watch how the curls bounce back up into shape.

John’s mouth is slick and shiny, his lips beautifully swollen. James wants to dive right back in as John’s tongue flicks out to trace his lower lip.

“I think it would be a bad idea if you came in.” John says breathlessly.

“I know it would be.” James’s voice is low and throaty.

John swallows before he starts again, “It’s not that I don’t want this, or you, it’s just…”

James cuts him off. “I’m not ready either.”

The relief in John’s posture mirrors his own.

He kisses John once more, this time closed mouth and soft before he ushers John into his apartment. As first kisses go, James is pretty fucking impressed with himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They’ve been dating for two months now and John is completely enamored. Based on their phone conversations John had known they’d be compatible. James is not only funny and smart, he’s also gorgeous on a level that hurts John to look at sometimes. The only mystery had been whether or not the physical chemistry would be there. But it’s there in spades. John has never wanted anyone this desperately. He’s never needed to feel someone, to touch them, the way he craves James.

James is all he thinks about, all he dreams about, all he wants, but they’re taking it slow, and John is perfectly okay with that. James turns him on so much that John is sometimes overwhelmed with it. Most nights he’s glad they’re taking things slowly.

But more often of late there are times, nights, when James leaves John’s apartment where John thinks that death by blue balls really is a thing that can happen. Sometimes, after they’ve been laid out on the couch, bodies touching everywhere, mouths raw from hours of kissing, John wishes they weren’t taking it slow.

John spends a lot of time with his hand down his pants to the memory of the way James tastes and feels and sounds. God, the way he sounds. Beautiful, tiny little hurt sounds that makes John’s pulse pound in his veins.

Today is John’s weekly day off and he’s spending it lazing around the house. He’s got plans. He intends to work himself to as many orgasms as possible before James calls him this evening. James is out of town on a rare trip with Habitat for Humanity looking at building locations in North Carolina.

He sets his supplies out on the bed. Lube, the new purple vibrating dildo he’d ordered two weeks ago, baby wipes, and a towel. He strips and works himself open perfunctorily, going in with three fingers straight away. The sting of it only heightens the pleasure and anticipation.

He’s thinking about James’s hands and mouth when he finally gets the toy inside himself. He slowly works it around, twisting it. He pulls it out a few inches before pushing back in. He shivers at the way it makes his cock twitch.

He flicks the switch on the base and turns the speed to two. Goosebumps break out across his skin and he sucks in a breath at how good it feels. He doesn’t even have to touch his cock for it to start leaking. He aims slightly upward and presses in hard, the tip nudges against his prostate and John’s whole body jerks.

He’s sliding it in and out in a slow steady rhythm aiming perfectly every time and before long John’s covered in a fine layer of sweat and panting. He’s just about to turn it up another notch when his phone rings. James’s name flashes across the screen.

John knows he should let it go to voicemail, knows now is not the time to answer, but he’s never been good at doing what he should. After all, it is James that John is thinking of. It’s James he’s wishing for in his bed. Its James’s fingers and mouth and cock he’s imagining right now as he fucks himself.

He hits the speaker button and tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t bother removing the dildo. He just lets James’s voice wash over him.

James talks briefly about the site visit. Tells John it was miraculously short and now he’s got a good few hours before he has to meet the donors for dinner. It’s not until James asks a question that requires an actual answer that James picks up on something not quite right with John’s voice. He asks if John’s in the middle of his workout.

It’s more moan than word when John’s says, “No.”

There’s silence on both ends for a few long, tense moments until James says, “Are you…”

And before James can finish his sentence John is apologizing, telling him he knows he shouldn’t have answered the phone and he’s so sorry.

Except then James cuts him off, voice strained, “Tell me exactly what you’re doing.”

John tells him about the dildo, bright purple with sparkles and ridges, five speeds and he’s got it on speed two right now. When James ask what he’s thinking about John doesn’t lie.

He answers softly, “You.”

James asks again for specifics and this time John does moan.

“Are you touching your cock?” James’s voice is sultry in his ear.

John’s breath hitches on his reply, “No. Don’t—don’t need it.”

“Do it anyway.” It’s an order and John is helpless not to follow it.

He slides his hand down his stomach and takes his cock in a loose grip. There’s already precome at the slit. He gathers it on his fingers, slides it around the head. John hears rustling over the line and then he hears James moan softly and John turns the vibrator up one more notch.

“What would you do to me, James, if you were here.” John pants.

“I’d put you on your stomach first, smack your ass. It’s perfect. Round and full and it always feels so good in my hands. I’d get it nice and red, my hand prints all over you. Sink my teeth in, suck marks all over it. Then I’d get my tongue inside you. Lick you out, make your hole wet with my spit. Fuck. I bet you taste so good.”

John shivers at the sound of James’s voice. He trails just his fingers over his cock, he can feel the roughness of his fingertips as he closes his eyes. He thinks about James’s hands, the veins that pop out on the back of them. He thinks about what they’d look like wrapped about John’s cock. He thinks about James’s thick fingers inside him, how wide they could stretch him.

“I want to fuck you. God, John I want to be inside you so badly. Spread you open and taste you. I want to make you beg. I want to make you come. I want to make you come so hard you scream.”

James continues, “I want to suck you. I want you to fuck my mouth. I want to feel you in my throat cutting off my air. I want your hands in my hair, holding my head as you use me. I want you to come on my face.”

John can hear the slick sound of James’s hand on his cock between James’s soft raspy exhales.

John hears himself whine, he’s stroking his own cock with purpose now. One hand holding the toy inside himself just right, as his fist strokes faster with every passing second. He notches the dildo up to the last speed and John swears he can feel his entire spine vibrate with it.

“Want...fuck, want to get my fingers in you. I want to see your tight little hole all pink and puffy around my fingers, I want to stretch you out, get them in you so deep. Could you come that way, just my fingers inside you?”

“Yes. God, yes.” His voice is an octave he’s never heard as his fist flies over his cock, twisting and squeezing at the head. He’s working himself from both ends, one hand on his cock the other fucking the dildo in and out fast.

“Yeah, that’s it's, don’t stop, come on, come for me, let me hear you.” James encourages.

John tugs his cock faster, concentrating on the head, fingers rolling over himself as he moans and gasps, body jerking and shivering and then he’s coming all over himself. He calls James’s name over and over.

He hears James’s hitching breaths and gasping little moans. Knows he has to be close, wants to push him over.

“Mmmmm, that was so fucking good. You make me feel so good, James. I’m so loose now, wish it was you, your fingers, your cock stretching me open.”

“Oh, fuck. John.”

He breaks off in a moan, soft breathy little grunts on every exhale that John wishes he could hear in person.

There’s silence for long minutes until James says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, please.”

“I don’t want to be that guy. I still don’t know if I’m ready and this is just, this just leads you on.”

“Unless you’re breaking up with me shut up. I’m not doing this to get laid. I want you, but I want all of you and if that means we wait, we wait. I should be the one apologizing. I started this.”

James laughs. “We’re arguing over who should be more sorry. About phone sex.”

James laughs again, and John can’t help but join him. They spend ten minutes talking about what they’ll be doing the next few days before they hang up.

***

It’s late on a Saturday night, almost into Sunday, two weeks after the phone incident as they’re calling it, and James has him pinned to the couch. Despite getting each other off, when James had showed up tonight they’d had a halting conversation about cooling down the making out that had been happening for the last month. They both ended up hard and aching having to pull back at the last minute to keep from going too far.

James had told him that he isn’t sure he’s ready to move things to the bedroom and John wouldn’t allow it to be one sided. James didn’t feel it was fair to continue what James called teasing. John had told James that he didn’t mind and that he didn’t consider it teasing in the traditional sense. They had decided it would be best if they just didn't start.

They’d been re-watching Sixteen Candles, sitting close but not touching, until James had looked at John’s mouth one too many times and John hadn’t been able to stop himself. He had hooked a hand around James’s head and pulled him in, tongue already seeking the inside of James's mouth. They’d both moaned, lips sliding together slickly as the kiss deepened and they were right back where they’d, only just a short time ago, agreed they would not go again.

Once their mouths had connected, it had only taken seconds before James’s body had covered his and they’d been vertical, teeth nipping and tugging, tongues twining together, the decision to withhold being thrown to the wind.

But John refuses to deny himself, he loves this. He loves lying here like this, James’s weight pressing him down. James’s body against his, the way they kiss for hours, nuzzling back and forth. As much as John loves sex, the build up was where it was at for him. He loves the foreplay of kissing. He loves the feel of hands on him over his clothes. It makes him feel like a teenager experiencing it for the first time all over again, excitement zinging through him.

James’s hips shift against his subtly. Their cocks rub together creating the most delicious friction John has ever felt. He nips at James’s neck just to hear him moan, it makes arousal thum hot and heavy under his skin.

He loves the way James sounds, the deep harsh groans that he can’t contain; the high panting whines when John wraps his leg over James’s hip to pull him closer.

They’re aligned from ankle to shoulder and John can feel James everywhere. He loves the way they fit together, loves how James’s body slots perfectly between his thighs. He loves the stretch in his hip as he widens his legs to accommodate James’s slightly larger frame.

His lips and neck burn from James’s beard and his cock throbs. He’s so fucking hard. John can feel himself shivering as his nerve endings light up at every touch.

James has one hand at the back of John’s neck, fingers tangled in his hair, supporting his head and the other shoved under John’s ass pulling him up into James’s body. His fingers are squeezing rhythmically, John’s not even sure James is aware he’s doing it but John loves it. He pushes up into James’s groin and then back into his hand, so much like fucking that John can’t stop thinking about James’s cock inside him.

John knows if he just shifted half an inch he could have one of James’s fingers rubbing right over his hole. The thought makes his cock twitch.

He can feel James’s cock against his hip and he wants to touch it, wants to taste him. He’s long and thick and John imagines how good he’s going to feel deep inside.

Their hips roll together slowly, it's not enough to get either of them off, but it’s the tease of a faster, harder rhythm that John wants so badly he could cry.

He digs his fingers into James’s back. James’s hips thrust down hard and John has to bite his tongue. He lets his fingers push up under James’s shirt. He finds hot damp skin as he rakes his nails along James’s spine. James pushes into him again, harder, hips moving quicker, as he moans into John’s neck.

John keeps the _fuck me_ behind his teeth because he won’t be that guy either. He’s promised James they’d wait and he doesn’t want to fuck this up just to get his dick wet.

James’s hips roll faster, his breath panting out against the base of John’s throat and before John even realizes it he’s right on the edge, his cock swelling, balls pulling up, he feels his stomach drop as his cock starts to twitch.

“Wait.” John pushes James up with one hand and James completely removes himself to rest back on his heels between John’s legs.

They’re both panting, chests rising and falling rapidly and John’s hands are squeezed into tight fists, nails biting into his skin to distract him from his desperate need to come.

“Too close, fuck.” John runs a hand through his hair trying to control his breathing. He can still feel himself twitching in his pants and he has to close his eyes against the picture James makes in front of him.

James’s chest is heaving, arousal coloring his cheeks and throat a deep scarlet, there’s sweat beading at his hairline. James’s full lips are red and swollen, wet with their combined spit. His cock is a tent in his pants, like a beacon for John’s hands and mouth and, god he feels his ass clench down on nothing; just looking at the bulge in James’s pants creates a desperate need to filled.

“I’m sorry.” James’s voice is strained, regretful.

“Stop apologizing.” John doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. He tempers the words by tangling his fingers with James’s.

“I want you, you know that right?” James asks softly.

“I do, I promise, I just...it was too close, one more move and I’d have been coming my pants.”

James grins at him wickedly, “Maybe I want you to.”

“You know the deal. Not unless I get to return the favor.”

After a few minutes John pulls him back in. Their mouths come together softly. James pulls back and puts his forehead against John’s and whispers a single word, _yes_ , before slowly bringing their bodies back together.

James slides his mouth along John’s jaw, stopping at his ear before saying, “I want to make you come. I want to feel it, I want to hear it and see it and I want to come _for_ you.”

John can only moan as his hips push up seeking friction. James’s hand slides down John’s side, takes a hold of John’s leg behind the knee and brings it up even with his hip as he shoves forward. Their cocks grind together and John feels himself shiver at the contact. James is so hard against him, right where he needs it most.

John’s hands creep down the back of James’s jeans and he pulls James to him, wraps his left leg over James’s other hip and ruts up against him, his body arching off the couch. The slick slide of his cock inside his underwear is hot and perfect and James is pushing him toward the edge quickly.

James bites down John’s neck hard and John hears himself cry out. He sucks John’s nipples through his t-shirt. Gets them soaking wet and stiff and so sensitive that John wants to scream. They’ve never gone this far before, never touched each other like this, with the intent of making each other come. James’s mouth had never strayed below his neck and John’s hands had never moved below James’s waist.

Now James attacks both his nipples, biting and licking and sucking before blowing on them. The rough scrape of fabric a direct contrast to the wet heat of James’s mouth. John pushes his chest up as he brings a hand to James’s head, fingers curling into James’s short hair to keep him in place. John writhes under James’s body, hips fucking up. He plants his foot on the couch and undulates under James, forces James into a faster rhythm.

John feels sweat sliding down his back, feels his skin tightening everywhere, there’s fire licking through his veins as his heart pounds faster with each rough shove of James’s hips. James is breathing hard against him, body rocking faster and faster, his moans pitching higher. James puts one hand on the arm of the couch next to John’s head and the other slides under John’s ass pulling him up hard into James’s urgent thrusts.

James’s eyes are bright and feverish, face slack with the most desperate need John’s ever seen and it’s all too much for him. John clutches at the front of James’s shirt, fingers fisted tight in the material as his other hand wraps around James’s bicep. He’s shoves up rubbing himself against James’s trapped cock.

John’s head goes back on a gasp, his body shuddering as he paints the inside of his pants, his fingers squeeze on James’s biceps leaving indents though the fabric of his shirt as he pants out wheezing breaths, his eyes squeezed shut as he comes so hard there’s nothing but white noise for several long blissful seconds.

He opens his eyes in just enough time to watch James come. James’s mouth opens on a silent moan, his head falling forward as his hips jerk erratically. The hand on John’s ass tightens impossibly, jerking John’s body up even closer. The absolute rapture that takes over James’s face has self-satisfaction rocketing through John. James’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he rolls his hips against John over and over until his breath starts to even out.

When James opens his eyes John is startled by the wealth of emotion staring back at him. He pulls James in, kisses him softly, rubs his cheek against James’s. He pulls James all the way down until James is resting on him fully and he’s wrapped in John’s arms. John strokes over his hair, kisses the crown of his head.

“Promise me this wasn’t too much.” John tries to mask the nervousness of his own voice and fails.

James sits up and pulls John with him until James is the one on his back and John is straddling his waist, head nestled on James’s chest just below his chin. James’s hand strokes along his spine.

“The first time, I don’t mean a few weeks ago, I mean months ago, that time...I didn’t react well. I was still so filled with guilt, and then shame, that I’d gotten myself off in their bed, our bed, that I’d ended up sick with it. It wasn’t you and I need you to know that. I never told you the full reason I stopped contact with you. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to touch you without feeling the same guilt I’d felt that night. And I knew you deserved so much more than I could offer you at that time, but I wanted you so much even then. I just wasn’t ready to admit it. Once I was able to let that go, it all changed.”

He pulls John’s head up until their eyes meet, “You make me feel like anything is possible, that _everything_ is possible. I don’t regret this one bit.”

John feels himself smile. He leans in and seals their mouths together. James leaves shortly thereafter knowing John has to be up in a few hours for deliveries. John doesn’t let himself relax until he gets his first text from James late Sunday morning inviting him to brunch when John is finished for the day.

***

Every year Max throws a Halloween party. This year John has decided to go as Frank-N-Furter and he’s conned James into going as Brad. To say John’s nervous is an understatement.

Despite the massive amount of making out they’ve been doing, and the mutual orgasms they’ve been providing each other, they’ve yet to be fully naked together. And James has yet to see all of John’s prosthetic. John’s costume is going to leave nothing to the imagination.

John had given James Max’s address and told him to be there at eight. John is already there, having decided he needed Max’s help. John decided to go with a traditional corset instead of the open front vest that Tim Curry had worn, so it requires a bit more help. It’s black velvet with satin ties in the [back](https://img1.etsystatic.com/103/1/9992530/il_570xN.848259533_8njx.jpg) and the [front](https://img0.etsystatic.com/103/1/9992530/il_570xN.848487010_7k6r.jpg). It starts just under his nipples and ends just above his hip bones. There’s a black velvet garter belt, black satin panties and black fishnet stockings. John had spent a small fortune on finding the exact right heels to fit his prosthetic but he thinks it’s going to be worth it.

As Max laces him into the corset he can’t help the nervous fidgeting.

“Will you please stand still?” Max is so exasperated with him at this point that she’s threatened more than once to have Billy come in and lace him up.

“I am.” John huffs.

“You’re not.” Max drops the laces and comes around to face John, “If he reacts badly, we’re all here, he won’t leave without a few bruises. And you’ll get over him, the same way you’ve gotten over every other asshole who couldn’t handle it.”

John lowers his head, “I don’t think I would. I wasn’t in—” John stops himself abruptly and sits on the edge of Max’s bed.

“If you feel that way about him, then he’s given you a reason to, and I can’t believe that you would fall in love with someone who would be that kind of a dickhead. There’s obviously good in him, John. Good that you know, that you see, that you feel. Trust that.”

John heaves a breath. He knows she’s right. She finishes the laces and then turns her back when he lowers his boxer shorts to change into the black satin panties. John shivers as the silky material slides against his cock. The material is cool and slick and he’s going to have to fight a hard on all night. Max then helps him into the stockings.

By the time he’s fully dressed it’s almost eight. He gets the chance to get a single swallow of his beer down before James texts John to tell him that he’s there. John goes to the door and waits for the knock. Max stands at his side, ever ready should John need her. The knock comes a few second later and with a deep breath John swings the door open.

“Well hello, sailor.” John says as he props his hip on the open door.

James’s eyes slide down John’s body lingering on the corset and then staring at his crotch before sweeping down his legs and then back up to meet John’s eyes. James’s eyes don’t linger where John thought they would. When their eyes meet James’s eyes hold nothing but hunger.

James runs a single finger down the center of John’s chest, his eyes following as he says, “Jesus Christ, I thought it was Halloween, not Christmas. You are a gift.”

The relief that flows through John is almost palpable.

“He looks good, yes?” Max asks. John knows the question is a test, and he knows James is going to pass.

“Good enough to fucking eat.” James’s voice is thick with want as his tongue flicks over his lower lip, eyes focusing on John’s trapped cock. John can hear Max laughing as she walks away.

“I think you’ve won her over.”

John startles as James pulls him in by the waist. He nuzzles under John’s ear. “Mmm, and what do I get as a prize? Fuck, you even smell incredible. How long do we have to stay?”

John doesn’t get a chance to answer because James backs him into the wall next to the door and kisses him. It’s full of tongue and teeth and spit. John can feel James’s desperation in the way his hands slide over John’s body.

An hour and a half into the party and John has had his ass smacked more than he can ever recall. Every single time it's someone James isn’t familiar with they get a warning look from James. John is beginning to suspect that Max has put everyone up to it to get this very reaction.

Every time they’re alone James has him pressed against a wall, a door, a piece of furniture, mouth hot, hands everywhere. John feels like he’s under siege. He accidentally says it out loud and James’s answer is to purr in his ear, “You very much are, sweetheart. When I get you home I’m going to taste every inch of you, inside and out.”

John’s only had three beers but he feels drunk and giddy and like maybe he just won the lottery.

James has him in the bathroom, ass on the counter as he stands between John’s spread legs. His hands are stroking up and down John’s thighs sending hot little shivers down John’s spine. On each trip upward, James’s thumbs just barely brush the sensitive skin between John’s groin and his thigh and each time John can’t help but widen his legs that much more. His mouth is biting across John’s neck. John’s hands push through the hair at the back of James’s head.

“I want…” John pauses, because he doesn’t want to just blurt it out and what if this isn’t leading where he thinks it is. He bites the corner of his lip.

James pulls back and searches John’s face before breaking out in a smile. “If you think tonight ends any other way than in bed, naked, with me inside you so far that you’ll think we’re one person, you are very mistaken.”

John pulls him in for a short filthy kiss before hopping off the counter. “Let’s go, we have a round of goodbyes to make.”

As they’re leaving, Max asks John point blank if he has condoms. James answer for him, “If he doesn’t, I do.” Max nods approvingly.

By the time they get back to John’s apartment, James’s right hand has been all over John’s cock, driving John insane. James had had one hand on the steering wheel and the other one feeling John up. John is so hard, the panties are barely able to contain him at this point.

The satin is wet where he’s been leaking and James’s has, more than once, rubbed his fingers directly over the slick material, getting his fingers damp, before pulling them into his mouth to taste John. John’s hand is wrapped tightly around the arm rest, knuckles white to keep from reaching into the panties and pulling his cock out to jerk off. He all but sprints to his apartment when James parks the car.

John ditches his heels at the door and it’s practically a race to his bedroom.

Once there, James loses every piece of his clothing before John can even turn around but when he finally looks he’s struck dumb. James is gorgeous. John had known that James’s was fit. He’d felt James’s body against his, felt the muscles in James’s arms and legs as he’d pressed John to the couch. But it was nothing compared to seeing all of it on display.

Beautifully pale, freckled skin stretched tight over hard muscle. James thighs are thick and covered in fine downy hair. His abdomen is completely flat topped by strong pecs and tiny little nipples that John can’t help but go right for.

He gets his mouth on one and James moans deep in the back of his throat, hand coming up to cradle the back of John’s head. John’s runs his hands over James’s sides, over his ass and hips. John wants to touch him and taste him everywhere.

James pulls him into a dirty kiss before he spins John around to get at the ties on the back of his corset, John can feel James’s shaking fingers trying to untie the knots that Max had made.

“Fuck, I don’t have the patience for these ties.” James’s voice is frustrated.

“Then break them or cut them, I don’t fucking care.” He needs to be naked. He needs to feels James’s skin against his, right now.

James leans down and grabs his pants. He pulls his keys out and opens a miniature swiss army knife. He slices through the laces quickly and then the corset is falling away. James drops the keys back to the floor.

Before John can turn around James is lifting John’s hair off the back of his neck. John’s knees turn to jelly when James runs his tongue just under John’s hair line. “At the wedding all I could think about was tasting you here. Every time you lifted your hair to cool off I was mesmerized.”

James sucks a mark at the very base of his neck and John feels himself sway back into James. He feels James’s nose nudge up under his ear as James bites across his exposed skin. John shivers, body going hot as his head falls forward. The sharp sting of James’s teeth has John sucking in a harsh breath.

James turns him slowly, hands sliding all over John’s skin. John can feel the calluses on James’s fingers from years of hard work as his fingers slide up John’s chest to catch one of his nipples. John moans, hands holding onto James’s shoulders as his legs tremble.

John’s arms go around James’s neck as James’s hands slide over John’s ass. He squeezes a cheek in each hand and pulls John in. He licks up the side of John’s neck, teeth nipping at John’s ear. James lets a single finger slide between John’s cheeks and it's everything he’s wanted for so long that John can keep the harsh groan from leaving his lips as he pushes his hips back into James’s hand. James stokes a single fingertip over his hole and the silky slide of the panties against him make his buck his hips into James.

James walks him closer the bed. John starts to drop the panties but then James says, “Leave them.”

John unhooks the garter belt, rolls down the stockings and then sits on the end of the bed. James watches him remove his prosthetic, eyes curious but losing none of their heat. Once he sets it aside, John pulls James in and slides his tongue along the flat of James’s abdomen before dipping his tongue into James’s belly button. He spreads his legs and pulls James between them. He sucks the head of James's cock into his mouth. John hums around him in satisfaction at the first taste.

James hisses out a breath, his hand immediately going to John’s hair. John licks the head, just his tongue flicking back and forth. Then he mouths down one side and sucks at the base. He looks up at James, as he pulls back before slowly sucking the head of James’s cock into his mouth. He lets James rest there for a few seconds. James’s hand tightens in John’s hair. John runs his hands up the back of James’s thighs, encouraging James to fuck his mouth.

James thrusts shallowly, and John moans at the feel of him. He’s heavy on John’s tongue and John feels his eyes fall closed as he tips his head back and lets James use his mouth. James’s breath hitches before he pulls out.

John tries to get him back into his mouth but James just shakes his head. “Too good.”

James pushes him up the bed and rolls him over onto his stomach. John can feel James’s hot breath ghost across his lower back and then James licks over John’s satin covered hole. John moans, legs spreading wide.

“Fuck, yes.” John hisses.

James bites across his ass, the sting of it making John light up like a fireworks display. James licks over him again before moving to run his tongue down John’s right thigh. He licks the backs of both of John’s knees. He rubs his beard up and down the backs of both thighs, the burn of it making John push down into the bed to get friction on his cock.

He bites up the inside of John’s other thigh before pushing the panties aside and pressing the flat of his tongue right over John’s hole. He licks at him softly, flicking his tongue back and forth. John bites the bedding under him to keep from crying out.

John shudders and pushes back against James’s tongue. James lets the panties go to cover John once more before diving down and licking over John’s covered balls. He sucks them through the material and John’s hands clench beside him as the wet satin slides over his skin creating heat and friction.

James runs his tongue back up, licking at John’s hole again, until the material is wet and clinging to John’s skin. John is writhing and begging. James pushes the sopping material aside and then his tongue is licking across John’s skin. John whimpers, his hole fluttering against James’s tongue.

John pulls one leg up trying to open himself wider. James props himself up on his elbows, pulls John’s ass apart and spears his tongue inside. John cries out, reaching back to pull James closer to him. He presses his hips back and James seals his lips around John’s hole and sucks, before pushing his tongue in again. His teeth scrape across John’s rim and John is nearly incoherent.

James pulls away and takes the panties with him before turning John over and asking, “Lube?”

John points to the bedside table. John’s breathing fast, body on fire as he watches James crawl up his body, hands rubbing along his thighs as he goes. He gets to his knees between John’s spread legs, lube and condom laid out beside John’s right thigh.

James slicks two of his fingers and then slides them lightly over John’s hole. John shivers and spreads his legs. He can feel himself clenching down against the tips of James’s fingers. James pushes in slowly and John bites his lip. It feels so fucking good, the slight sting makes him hiss out a breath. He’s greedy for it, hips pushing back trying to take James’s finger further inside himself. James’s fingers are thick and insistent, sliding into the second knuckle as John curls his own fingers into the sheets.

James leans up, kissing him lightly before moving down to suck at John’s nipples as his fingers rock slow and steady in and out of his body. John hums as James takes one nipple between his teeth and tugs. It goes straight to his cock, and he feels himself leaking over his stomach as he twitches.

James continues to work his fingers in and out, spreading him open, letting them catch at John’s rim before he’s sliding back down John’s body. He rests his head on John’s stomach for several moments before meeting John’s eyes and taking the head of John’s cock in his mouth.

“Shit, James.” John moans.

James’s tongue swirls the head, dips into the slit before sliding his mouth halfway down, tongue tracing the thick vein on the underside. His mouth is so wet and hot that John has to force himself not thrust up.

John traces James’s lips with his fingers as James continues to sink down on his cock. James’s lips are swollen, stretched wide, wet with spit and John’s precome. James’s eyes slide closed as he hums around John’s cock. John feels it vibrate all the way through him.

James curls his fingers up, rubbing softly at just the right spot, as he slides the rest of the way down on John’s cock. John stops breathing for half a second before moaning and grabbing at James’s head to try and pull him off.

“Oh my god. Fuck, stop. You’re gonna make me come.”

John’s hips are bucking, his cock sliding in and out of the back of James’s throat. James hums around him again and John whimpers, losing the battle.

James looks up in just enough time to watch John’s hand slap against the headboard as his head goes back, body arching off the bed to shove his cock deeper into James’s throat.

John chokes on a breath as his body goes rigid, mouth open and panting as he comes down James’s throat. James milks him through it, his mouth sliding loosely up and down as his fingers continue to caress the inside of John’s body. John is jerking with aftershocks, goosebumps breaking out all over his arms and legs.

He pushes at James’s head gently when it gets to be too much. When James pulls his fingers free, John whimpers softly at the feeling of being empty.

James lays beside him, smile gracing his face. As John reaches for his cock, James moves away, “I’m not nearly done with you.”

James kisses him, tongue tracing John’s bottom lip. John can taste himself in James’s mouth. He sucks it off of James’s tongue before James pulls away and drags his tongue down John’s neck to his collarbone.

John can feel James licking the sweat from his skin. John arches up and runs his fingers though James’s hair. John is hot and flushed and sated but his cock is taking an interest in the way James’s hand is sliding slowly down his stomach.

James’s fingers crawl along John’s hipbones, tracing patterns across his skin. He dances his fingers along John’s cock and through the sparse hair at the base until his fingers are resting under John’s balls. James’s rolls them in his hand, fingers gentle as he tugs softly.

James’s gets to his knees above him, straddles his hips for a short kiss before getting back between John’s spread legs. He licks along the indents of John’s hip, nips at the skin, raises more red marks for John to admire later. He slides his tongue along the base of John’s cock and John is still so sensitive that it makes him pull away but James chases him, mouth sucking his balls in.

His fingers graze over John’s hole and John moans, feeling himself clench down in anticipation. James pushes two freshly slicked fingers in. John shudders, his cock hardening further. James’s mouth and hands work his body for several long minutes before he pulls away.

John watches him through half lidded eyes as James slides a condom on and slicks himself. He pulls John to him, puts John’s legs over his thighs and lines himself up. John struggles to breath as James’s cock head nudges into him. His fingers scramble for something to hold on to. He pulls at the sheets as James gets the head inside. He feels his eyes roll up as the hot sharp burn of finally having James inside settles over him.

The tension in his body ratchets higher. John breathes out, slow and steady and then James is sliding in. James pushes in in one go until he’s balls deep and John is panting, fingers squeezing and releasing in the sheets beside him. It’s hot and tight and just this side of painful and he loves every single second of it.

James feels so fucking big inside him, so full and heavy. John’s hips rock up on instinct and James moans, the sound raw and open and desperate. James’s head drops to his chest, his breath ghosting across John's stomach making him shiver.

John arches his back, opening his body and James slides in just that much deeper before pulling out and pushing back in gently. His first thrusts are slow and deliberate. John can feel every hard inch of him and his breath catches at the feeling of being filled over and over. John trembles with how good it is.

Soon enough James find an easy rhythm, driving home deep and fast. He goes up on one arm and reaches for John’s cock with a slick fist. James strokes John in time with the thrusts of his hips and John can feel himself being overwhelmed. He pushes back onto James’s cock and then up into his fist.

He tries to catch his breath only to have it punched out of him again and again as James’s hammers himself home. John’s gasping, panting out broken sounds of pleasure with every push, frantic with the need to come coursing through him as he lays himself open for James.

James leans in and grazes his teeth along John’s neck, “Fuck, so fucking perfect.” James whispers into his skin.

James teeth sink in and it's enough to push John over the edge. John shudders and comes hot and pulsing over James’s fist, vision blurring as he arches upward. John’s hands reach for James, pulling him into a searing kiss. He bites at James’s lips as James’s body starts to shudder, his hips losing his rhythm. James pulls back and when their eyes lock, James shoves deep one last time. John hears him moan, wounded little choked off breaths as his hips jerk erratically; his eyes fall closed as his mouth opens to suck in huge gulps of air.

John traces his eyebrows as he watches James come back to himself.

When their eyes meet again, they’re both gasping for breath, trying to regain control of their limbs. John wraps his arms around James’s shoulders as James shivers against him.

James rests against him, mouth pressing sloppy kisses against John’s neck. James finally slides off to the side and disposes of the condom before bringing a wash cloth back. He wipes John down and pulls him in against his chest.

“That was worth every second of waiting.” James’s voice is drowsy and John settles further back, presses himself closer to James’s chest as he nods. The last thing he remembers is James’s fingers tangling with his over his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

When James shows up at John’s apartment three months later he’s not expecting to find John limping the way he is. The entire time that James has known John, he’s been rock steady on his prosthetic. There’s a very slight uneven hitch that the majority of people can’t detect and most of the time James forgets that John even has a prosthetic. So to see him walk this unevenly concerns James.

He doesn’t know how to go about asking, but he wants to know what’s going on. When he see John massaging his thigh over dinner he has his opening.

“Are you doing too much stretching?”

At first John seems confused. James eyes cut down to John’s hand and John shakes his head.

“New prosthetic. We have to replace them every so often, they wear out and I don’t think this one fits the way its supposed to. It’s been bothering me all day.”

James nods, “Is there anything you can do?”

“Take it back to my prosthetist and have her refit it. I may have to be on crutches for a bit.”

“Does that mean I get to carry you around?” James asks despite already knowing the answer.

“If you want to get punched in the balls, by all means.” John says sardonically. James just laughs. He knows how John feels about being carried.

Later that evening, when John is getting ready for his evening ritual of removing the prosthetic for sleep, James stills his hands.

“Show me how.”

John goes through the removal of his outer sock, and then he pulls the prosthetic off. He rolls down the two sleeves, showing James how to turn the last one inside out and hang it over the stand.

James reaches for the moisturizer and asks, “May I?” James has seen John do this every night that he stays over, but he wants to do it for him tonight.

James watches him hesitate until John nods. John leans back against the headboard and waits. James pumps the lotion three times into his hands, rubs them together a few times before reaching for John’s left leg.

He starts at the scar, and John flinches slightly, muscles tightening under James’s hand, so James gentles his hands further until John seems to relax again. He makes gentle circles working lotion into the skin before sweeping his hands up slowly, rubbing and massaging the muscle at the same time along the way.

He works the knots out of John’s thigh and John groans when he hits a particularly tight spot. His hands slide up under the hem of John’s shorts to the very top of his thigh.

James hears John’s breath catch on a soft moan. “I love the way you touch me.”

James works his way back down to the scar and works his fingers gently back and forth rubbing more lotion in.

He notices how red and irritated John’s skin looks. “It’s not supposed to be this red and sensitive is it? Everything I read said it should be pretty tough by now.”

“You...you researched amputees?” John asks softly.

“I looked it up. I wanted to know if there was something I needed to avoid or if there was something I should or shouldn't do and I didn't know if you’d be comfortable with my questions. I didn’t want to put you in a bad spot. Should I not have?” James asks carefully.

John sits forward and pulls James into a kiss.

“No one has ever taken the time to know or care. I’ve never let anyone but Billy or Max touch it. I can’t believe you did that for me.”

John kisses him again, this time with more fire as he pulls James’s body down onto his. James can feel John’s half hard cock against his hip. James rubs their cock together with slow measured strokes. John arches under him, legs opening, hips pushing up, body welcoming.

James loves the way John reacts to him, he loves how open and giving John is. He loves the way John takes his pleasure. He loves the way John isn’t afraid to show James how much he wants him.

James strips them quickly. He gets his fingers in John and opens him slowly until John is nothing but half broken moans and barely contained begging. He puts John on his side and fucks him slow and deep as John bites back choked off sobs of pleasure. By the time they both come they’re breathless and exhausted.

John is resting against him, bodies stuck together with sweat and come when John starts speaking.

“I have to tell you something and I need you to just listen, yeah?”

James nods his head and he feels John take a deep breath. He hasn’t lifted his head from where it rests on James’s shoulder.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I know that you can’t say it back. I don’t want you to think that you have to. I know what you lost, James, and I would never want to replace that. I know you care for me. I feel it when you touch me. I can hear it in your voice when you say my name, that’s enough. I know that we're in this together, so I don’t need the words. But I needed to say this because I’ve been holding it inside for so long, and I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t know if I had it in me to love someone like this and I do and I just needed to say it, I just needed it to be out there.”

James says nothing but he strokes his fingers gently down John’s back and he presses his lips to the side of John’s head. He folds John into his arms and holds him tightly, John relaxes into him, body getting heavy as sleep starts to take him.

James can’t help but think back to the first time he’d told Thomas and Miranda that he was in love with them. It had been terrifying and exhilarating and the most liberating thing he’d ever done. He was the odd man out and he knew that they cared for him, enjoyed him in more ways than one, but love, that was something completely different. They’d taken him to bed and shown him just exactly how mutual those feelings were. It was, to this day, still the best memory he has of them.

John snuggles into his neck and James rolls them to their sides. He puts John in front of him and pulls him back against his chest. He buries his nose in John’s hair. He does care for John, so very much, and yet James doesn’t know if he can love him. He doesn’t know if that part of his heart is closed forever.

He knows that he wants this with John. That he wants to be with him, that he can’t imagine what it would be like not to have John in his life. He knows that what he feels for John feels a hell of a lot like love.

When he thinks about where he wants to be in five, ten, fifteen years, he sees John beside him. James thinks that he’s beyond lucky to have found this with someone again after losing Thomas and Miranda and he’s not willing to give it up.

He twines his fingers through John’s where they rest on his stomach and he litters John’s shoulder with kisses. He’s not going to worry about whether he can or can’t. He’s not going to worry about whether the words will ever pass his lips again. He’s going to have this, he’s going to give John every part of himself that he can, the way John gives to him.

***

They move in together five months later. They’ve found a place of their own. Not John’s old apartment and not James’s house. John’s apartment was too small and James’s house was too big.

He and John had tried living in James’s house but it had put John on edge and so they’d eventually settled on staying most of the time in John’s apartment on the odd nights that James didn’t go home.

Despite James’s constant reassurance that John was welcome, that Thomas and Miranda would have wanted him there, sharing James’s life, making him happy, James could understand John’s hesitance. John never said a word but he could see the reverence in John’s hands whenever he touched something. James eventually figured out that John’s behavior was equal parts fear and respect.

Respect for the life and love James had lost and fear that John would lose James to ghosts he had no hope of fighting. John didn’t realize quite yet that James was all in. He wasn’t holding himself back and perhaps it was time that John knew that.

James has been tossing around the idea of selling the house but the thought of it is simply terrifying. It’s the last physical link to Thomas and Miranda that he has. Jack has told him that he knows a few people who are interested.

The day James and John move into their new house, Billy brings half the station house with him and it takes no time at all. By the time the last box is being put down there are fifteen pizzas and a dozen different six packs of beer littering their empty dining room floor.

John is lying on the floor with his head pillowed in James’s lap and James feels contentment steal over him. He’s happy in a way he hasn’t been in years, in a way he never thought he’d feel again. But here he is, laughing and joking, living his life as fully as he can.

A week later he tells Jack he’s ready, that’s it's time he sells the house and if he knows some people who are interested to let him know. He doesn’t tell John yet. He meets with three different couples over the next month, all them young and wealthy. One of them familiar with the Hamilton name.

He waits until the financing is approved and a closing date has been set and then he tells John one night over dinner.

“I’m selling the house.”

John goes perfectly still before looking up. He lays his fork on his plate and says, “Are you sure? You know I would never ask that of you.”

James smiles at him and he feels his heart swell before answering, “I know. But it’s time.”

John says nothing more, just nods his head.

James arranges to have whatever furniture and paintings Claire doesn’t want to be sold at auction. While James had loved Thomas and Miranda dearly, their decorating sense and his had been miles apart.

He keeps a few items. Thomas’s cherry liquor cabinet. Miranda’s jewelry that Claire doesn’t want. Small knick knacks and all the photographs. John asks him if he’d like help packing the house. James says no and John doesn’t push. Instead James asks Max.

When Max gasps over a particular broach, James gifts it to her. She hesitates, telling him she can’t accept it. James tells her that he thinks they would have liked each other and Miranda would much rather have her jewelry being worn than stowed away in a box forever. James ends up shedding a few tears, Max pretends she doesn’t see.

When they finish, and they’re saying their goodbyes, she gives him a tight hug.

“I’m glad you found each other.” She whispers to him.

“Me too.”

Three days later he sits at the closing and signs the papers. When James gets home he opens the door to the sound of _Rock Steady_ by The Whispers blaring through the house. Reaching the kitchen doorway he stops and leans against the frame.

John’s phone is plugged into the docking station and he’s standing at the stove over one of their larger stock pots while a pan of perfectly browned meatballs sits on on the opposite counter. John is wearing the shortest shorts James has ever seen. James had no idea John even owned shorts that tiny. They’re denim and ragged, obviously once jeans that John cut off. John’s ass is almost hanging out the bottom and his thighs are flexing as Johns rocks his hips sensually back and forth to the beat of the song.

James can’t help the image in his head. It reminds him of the way John rides him, body rolling, thighs tight, muscles contracting and releasing as he works himself on James’s cock.

 _and we begin to rock steady_  
steading rockin all night long  
and we begin to rock steady  
rockin till the break of dawn

John turns and see James. A wide, dirty smile breaks across John’s face as he tosses the wooden spoon into the sink.

John tango’s his way across the room to James. He lowers the volume on his docking station as he reaches James. John’s hands slide up James’s chest to wrap around his neck while James’s hands come to rest on John’s hips. They sway to the beat for several long moments, John’s body pressed up close and tight to his.

James nips down John’s neck. John smells like garlic and basil. He smells like home and James lets his eyes fall closed as he presses closer to John, just breathing him in. His arms wrap around John’s waist tightly and squeeze until John lets out a quiet sigh and melts into him. James presses a last kiss to John’s throat before pulling back to look at his face.

He traces John’s lips with a fingertip before leaning in and stealing a kiss. John’s lips cling to his as he pulls away.

“Nice shorts.” James says as he slides one hand down over John’s ass to tug on the bottom of the material.

John just waggles his eyebrow before asking “How did it go?”

James sees the concern on John’s face. Concern for him, for his feelings and his well being and James is overwhelmed with emotion for this man who has brought so much joy and happiness back to his life.

“I’m desperately in love with you.”

John’s breath catches and James can feel his face heating up. Those were not the words he’d planned and this wasn’t the way he’d wanted to tell John he loved him the first time, but there it is.

John’s face is a study in disbelief, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. James sees no reason to stop now. “Every day I wake up next to you and I watch you sleep and I realize I’m the luckiest man in the world that you love me. I can’t tell you how many times a day I think those words at you. It’s more than past time you knew it. This wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to tell you, but I mean every syllable of it.”

John plasters himself tighter against James, arms squeezing around his neck. James can feel him sucking in one deep breath after another. They’ve been together almost two years now and James knows that John never expected James to say the words. John had told him it didn’t matter. That he knew James cared for him, he knew this is where James wanted to be and that was enough. It hadn’t been enough for James. He needed John to know.

John presses his face to James’s neck and James can feel the trace moisture there. James wraps his arms tightly around John as John whispers the same words to him over and over.

When they pull apart John kisses him fiercely. James bends him over the center island, John’s tiny shorts pooled around his feet as James fucks him thoroughly with only olive oil for lube. As far as substitutions go, it wasn’t terrible.

***

James has it all planned. He’d spent months looking at [rings](http://tempmediahashed.tumblr.com/8507ybqlgb8c48oc0ckkkgsg_tumblr_tmp.jpg) until he’d finally found something he liked. It had been nearly impossible to get John’s thumbprint without him knowing but he enlisted Billy’s help. With John being a retired firefighter, his fingerprints were in IAFIS, it was getting a copy that was difficult. James had wanted something that was as unique to him as John was himself. Once he has them he hides them in his sock drawer, waiting for the perfect time, the perfect night. He’s decided tonight’s the night.

John’s been back at work at the fire department for six months now. He took on a trainer position. He can’t actively go out on calls, but he could sure as hell teach people why they shouldn’t do what he’d done. James had never seen him happier than when his former captain had come by the house to offer him the position.

John had turned the shop over to Jeanine. He checks in on the weekends but she learned everything she knows from him and John trusts her.

James is at the stove when John comes storming in slamming the door behind him. Tonight is apparently not going to be one of the good nights. Sometimes John comes home smiling. Others, he comes home frustrated from the lack of understanding how important safety can be.

Usually John will come in, say hello, give him a kiss, and then change his clothes. Tonight he heads straight for the bedroom. James can hear drawers slamming and he just waits patiently.

James knows that he has to let John come to him on days like this. When he finally does, and he starts the rant about his day, James turns off the burner on the stove and focuses his attention on John solely.

By the time John’s done and completely deflated James has moved close enough to run his hands over John’s shoulders. He digs his thumbs in and John’s head drops forward, a soft sigh spilling from his lips. John turns and lifts his face to James. James slides one hand into John’s hair, his thumb stroking across John’s cheekbone as he kisses him lightly.

“You’re a fucking saint, you know that?” John’s voice is soft.

Years later James won’t be able to tell anyone where it came from or why, just that he knew he needed to say it right then and he didn’t even think about it.

“I think you should marry me.”

John goes perfectly still, his mouth opens but no sound comes out. His eyes are wide and round and James tries like hell not to squirm.

They’ve never actually talked about it and James wasn’t one hundred percent sure that John even wanted to get married. Living together is one thing, marriage is something completely different. Maybe John doesn’t want that, maybe he’s happy with the way things are.

Maybe those two rings sitting in James’s sock drawer are the embodiment of all of James’s broken dreams. John must feel him tensing up because his arms tighten around James’s waist. James watches as John’s face breaks into a grin. James sees him look around the kitchen, taking in the pots and pans, and then looking out to the dining room where the table is set.

“You planned this.” James doesn’t answer, but he doesn't deny it either. “How long have you been thinking about this? Are there rings? Did you buy rings? Show me.” John sounds like a kid on Christmas.

James rolls his eyes and tries to extract himself from John’s grip.

“You haven’t even given me an answer.” James know he sounds huffy.

“You haven’t asked me a question to answer.” John say drolly before adding, “If you don’t show me the rings, I will tell your mother that you just blurted it out instead of giving me a proper romantic dinner." John starts working the button of James’s shirt open, “Or I can tell her that you dressed up,” Once it's fully unbuttoned he pulls it out of James’s pants, “Cooked me a five course meal.” John sucks James's right nipple into his mouth and James has to lock his knees to stay upright before John pulls off with a pop, “And got down on one knee.” He bites at James’s jugular before licking hard with his tongue, “Which one do you think will earn you the most points?”

John never actually says yes, but he does con James into showing him the rings. They get married six months later in their own back yard surrounded by family and friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have learned more about joining the British Royal Navy than any American ever should. If my government is watching my internet history I’m sure they’re probably wondering if I’m thinking about defecting. And depending on who wins the election, I just might consider it. 
> 
> I realize that I glossed over some areas regarding John’s rehab and how absolutely debilitating depression and anxiety can be, I hope that what I did include, did it some justice.
> 
> This story is near and dear to me and I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for taking the time.


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